Poetry

We gaze, zone out, read.
Boxed dinners, cards, Ipod beats
Our lives intersect.

“this book, some bug spray, comfortable bench in the shade, worlds overlapping, new light reflecting…”

“The pillagers with their noisy knives, their silent radiation. You look like a moon crater with a shallow lake…”

“Like white linen butterflies, envelopes flew and fluttered with each passing car. Refugees on the asphalt…”

“Anger’s fierce light split the shell I wore, seared this grief-bruised brain, with fiery cleansing…”

“Each fall the sharp-eyed gannets arrived in long lines, plunging from the sky and learning how to swallow underwater.”

Aching claws and depression and addiction so deep, she sometimes just wants to sleep in her bed forever.