A vial filled with crushed bone
in the pocket of my jacket.
A yellow dumpster
with the word LINGER
spray painted in black
across its side
Something crunches beneath my sole
I don't look down
to see what it is
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
Monday, December 9, 2019
December Song
Walking to work, I looked for the sparrows
that flit in and out of the bushes, twittering.
I looked for the woman who flashes me
a sweet smile as she hurries for the bus.
I looked for that little dog
that wags its tail and places its paws on the gate as I pass.
The sun cut through the mist
but though I looked up to greet it
I felt no warmth. My face
was a cold shadow spreading.
The dog was locked inside. The birds were dead.
The woman was down by the river, out of her head.
I walked to work and mounted the concrete steps
one by one.
that flit in and out of the bushes, twittering.
I looked for the woman who flashes me
a sweet smile as she hurries for the bus.
I looked for that little dog
that wags its tail and places its paws on the gate as I pass.
The sun cut through the mist
but though I looked up to greet it
I felt no warmth. My face
was a cold shadow spreading.
The dog was locked inside. The birds were dead.
The woman was down by the river, out of her head.
I walked to work and mounted the concrete steps
one by one.
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
Persephone
Morning streaked with pink.
Sycamores stripped. Frost
powdering the grass. A crow sips
from water pooled between
the letters stamped in a manhole cover.
What lies beneath that metal lid?
A ladder leading down
to a dark room crammed with
conduits and pipes
and branches bursting with leaves
and a sky of pink clouds
and songbirds
Sycamores stripped. Frost
powdering the grass. A crow sips
from water pooled between
the letters stamped in a manhole cover.
What lies beneath that metal lid?
A ladder leading down
to a dark room crammed with
conduits and pipes
and branches bursting with leaves
and a sky of pink clouds
and songbirds
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