From Quotidian


 

The kettle doesn’t hold
Enough for us both

In the morning   
I boil just enough

For myself

A stray grain burning
Into ash

*

At the café, I brush away
Another fly

My husband tears a dollar bill to pieces
Concentrating

This is
How things happen 

Keep happening

This is how things keep
Happening

*

He said   I said   He said
He moved into the sun to sneeze

I cleaned the windows
From the inside

Listening
The dogs also

*

The other side of the fence is
Elsewhere   Come back 

Wading into a low muddy stream
A fawn leapt onto the path 

In front just like that
Froth on her mouth

Sun’s out on a cold day  
The park, bereft of/free of

& she & me alone in it

*

Small between trees
We run on

Uneven ground
Shrubs scrape my shins

Torso bare in the heat
Thud of planks, suspended

My dog, unleashed
Is briefly

Wild

*

I nearly stepped on a bird   
It flew upward 

& away
White rustle 

Behind me
A pick-up truck brakes 

Our neighbor’s walking his dog again
Come on, Milo

Come on

*

The grass in our yard
So wet mornings

It’s as if it rained
In the last dark 

Isn’t real 

It’s an imposter
& grows much faster

*

The basil on the table
Pungent when watered  

Onion smell on my fingers
Won’t wash away 

A wind
Scratch of leaves 

I wake up tired
I keep dreaming of her  

A paw against my calf
Our first child 

*

The cover of the book he’s left on the marble table
Geography of Nowhere

Curls back to its spine
In the moisture 

Brown moth trapped
In a small paper lantern

A velvet knocking