From "A Handful of Poem-Images"
by Marie Bortolotto

A Lost Key

We dance in a line of pigeons; and crows, 
noisily, flapping wings over a vacant parking lot. 



A tall, stark thistle; motionless, against the backdrop 
of far-off mountains.



At a yellow-tiled temple, voices of enchantment lull us 
deeper into sun-soaked dew, where, finally; we can rest. 



On a bench, there, for us to see; a lost key.

Marie Bortolotto Art