Deborah P
Kolodji
In Paris
Your smile
hints of something
beyond its painted turn.
Leonardo teases, you keep
secrets.
Summer of Basil
pesto
caught on the blades
of the food processor—
the green leaves of an herb garden
outside
Castle Ruins
the flag
once flown proudly
over the battlements—
crumbling piles of sand where the tide
comes in.
