PROSE POETRY
NATALIE MARINO
EPILOGUE
When you age into amber paper. When you are the end of a sentence. When the sunset is a falling lemon. When the sky is a yellow memory. When the sea has lost all its small boats. When you love as if you were dust. When you hold onto time like a dying star. When you remember how to forgive. When you remember summer as an orange sparkler and how high the hose water rose in the air.
Natalie Marino is a poet and physician. Her work appears in Bitter Oleander, Rust and Moth, Shelia-Na-Gig online, Variant Literature, and elsewhere. Her chapbook, Memories of Stars, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. She lives in California.
