Gyroscope Review 16-2 - Page 13

AT HOME FOREIGN by Clyde Kessler I checked. Today’s Irish word of the day is líomóid. Lemon. It sounds bitter, the sample sentence is bitter. I am still checking the sound, the peeling I bite. It cracks the sunlight because it’s a dream, and it’s October, squeezed from Florida. It sounds limmish with some sugar midday. Or it wants to be a tree sprouting from a voice. Lemon-ish will trip a jetty, a flock of sandpipers, the low-tide shells. It means I will have to log off, and walk out to find broken sand-dollars and pieces of razor-clam wedged lightly into a sand castle one kid abandoned. It sounds like gulf waters are heating the Emerald Isle where some moonlight begins, where the moon’s a lemon slice. You’ll tell me the future with this lemon rind and some tea leaves. The future holds the sky across a runway, jets taxiing with darkness. S \