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.
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.
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.
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.
three goats in an old man’s field.
licorice and dandelion root.
lightning, so he hides underneath the bridge.
orange starfruit.
shapes in fog.
he says the power is in the water, and the water is in his arms.
yellow-morning hail and flooded roads.
mango blossom.
her poetry book in the mailbox.
my picture on the program.
plum and blackberry.
the microwave light like a candle on the kitchen wall.
living (again) in high water.
vanilla chai.
a man on the radio is still looking for that bluejean babyqueen.
licorice root.
everything smells like fire.
a split in the heartwood.
black pearl.
wish it was raining because the sun seeps guilt through closed curtains.
she’s already downtown.
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