Blue billy goat weed tucked in mud
blinks at me
damp green undergrowth
and earthy bracken along riverbank
Daughter’s croupy cough
accompanies us
on our idle path

Later, I have to look up
the adamant, blue name

Back in the moment, bright
pubescent petals
with trumpeting stamen
hold my attention

Narrow leaves mud-streaked
dark green
crowned by
spherical blue luminosities
grown careless along the path

AB wants to pick some
but I stay the impulse to tear
and gather

The weed tenuates perception
with no name, no
understanding, offers
only experience

a lonely
beautiful frustration

By Joshua Hamilton

Joshua Bridgwater Hamilton is a Louisville, KY native who migrated to Corpus Christi, TX. He has a chapbook forthcoming, Rain Minnows, with Gnashing Teeth Publishing, and a chapbook, Slow Wind, with Finishing Line Press. His poetry appears in Windward Review, Driftwood, Voices de la Luna, and Noble/Gas Qtrly.


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