Tara Bronner

23 Queen Avenue Revisited

How do I know these cement steps ?
Wooden planks painted mud brown
The symphony of wind chimes,
Porch chair cushions
Perfect for naps
Cactus plants on the ledge that await drops of rain
Do you know how many have sat here?
Can you feel their spirits?

Four Lemons in A Grove

Heady scent of lemons in groves off the Amalfi Coast. Bursts of joy picked by aged Sicilian
men in dress pants and suspenders.

Meme always asked for a slice of lemon with her nightly glass of Dubonnet. She said it made
her feel like the Queen of England who liked her Dubonnet mixed with gin.

Lemon drops sour on my tongue cast me backward to childhood when my siblings and I
would get to pick penny candy from large glass jars at the back of the country store. Sugar
dust coated our fingers.

Jacob had his first break at the tender age of 16, his mind quartered like a lemon.
Wedges mixed with whatever drug cocktail came next, none able to bear the fruit of


The cerulean orb sits
rules over my garden of vegetables and flowers
renders their reflections distorted and grotesque
under the indigo glow from above
matted wet leaves cling to the slate pedestal
they do not wish to be abandoned