Georgia O’Keeffe’s Red and Brown Leaves, 1925

Karen L. George
| poetry

 

Cloudy, primal green floods

the canvas, superimposed

with a scarlet maple

and sepia poplar leaf

upright as rooted trunks.

A trinity—three seasons—

death closest.

 

Stages of cancer—yours IV

when found near Easter.

You died in the height

of fall. Everywhere the stab

of color, the crunch underfoot,

the must of decay. Even weeds

along the freeway translated

to beauty, all repellent.

Karen L. George is author of five chapbooks and two poetry collections: Swim Your Way Back and A Map and One Year. She has appeared in South Dakota Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Adirondack Review, Louisville Review, and Naugatuck River Review.

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