there are no satisfactory synonyms
for lace, even though some words tickle:
plash, pleach, spatter
filigree comes close but misses
the way the Queen Anne’s Lace
opens slowly, like a radiant palm
her closed fist still a promise
green and white with a button
that might well be a beetle or a small heart
I’d trade for my eyeteeth:
The ability to grasp
a bundle with my bottom,
to balance a limb or a promise,
wrestle with a new nest.
A fifth hand,
when all I wanted
was a third.
Deb Scott is a dabbler who sketches using words, pencils, camera, and her iPad. She shares her Portland, Oregon home with her husband, domestic pets, backyard birds and a huge Norwegian rat. The rat lives under the garden shed and looks like a tiny wild pig and it worries her that there are growth hormones in the blackoil sunflower seeds she feeds the birds, and inadvertently him. Deb blogs at Stoney Moss, where you can find a list of other places who are as nice as Curio and published her whatnot.