950

 

 

I step out of the wind, waiting. the dog finds something underneath a pile of snow-covered leaves. I wonder if five o’clock is too early to put on pajamas.

 

 

947

 

 

she drags the engagement ring across her face; it leaves a black mark, soft like the closed eyelid of a newly-hatched bird. all the food is dipped in chocolate. a man on the radio has expressions he never gives.

 

 

945

 

the caller id says ‘beverlyhls,ca’ and I just let it ring. I don’t know what to call this day that was my anniversary; I don’t know how to move myself through everything I remember.

 

 

879

 

three goats in an old man’s field.
licorice and dandelion root.
lightning, so he hides underneath the bridge.

 

 

877

 

orange starfruit.
shapes in fog.
he says the power is in the water, and the water is in his arms.

 

 

875

 

yellow-morning hail and flooded roads.
mango blossom.
her poetry book in the mailbox.

 

 

872

 

my picture on the program.
plum and blackberry.
the microwave light like a candle on the kitchen wall.

 

 

869

 

living (again) in high water.
vanilla chai.
a man on the radio is still looking for that bluejean babyqueen.

 

 

868

 

licorice root.
everything smells like fire.
a split in the heartwood.

 

866

 

black pearl.
wish it was raining because the sun seeps guilt through closed curtains.
she’s already downtown.