Poetry
Convent Garden
The car rally roars up the road.
The olive grove trembles
ground and clover
in its thunderous wake.
On this side of the wall
I fold my laundry now.
I unroll the toes of socks
that turned inside out
on the line.
I put my hand in each one
warmed by the sun
and feel my way around
until I find the end
where I hold on
and slowly pull through.
Veronica Gaylie is a writer from Vancouver. Her work appears in Geez, Geist, Grain, Ditch, Room, Lake, and elsewhere. Her essays may be heard on CBC radio.
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