Recovered Excavation

A red door
in a basement
is someone’s memory
of her father. Removed
from the must
and toad populated
puddles beneath
the stair, it still hinges
on a human hand
to be moving.
Danish teak
furniture had nothing
to do with it.

Traveling Lighter in Increments

A cold spell snaps
into the first

heat wave
of the season. Which season?

An approach
by air

rather than
by sea

could open
those island gates

she has been eyeing
for as long

as she has been walking
without a crutch.

Trapped Inside a Song or Short Story

In a dream not that long ago,
he celebrated
a rare

moment being
anonymous by sitting next
to me—

close. But I knew. Thighs
touching just as I remember
they did

once or twice or thrice before—closer.
In some nonlinear fantasy narrative—
closest.

The writer retires.

Rain or Shine Garden

A perfectly ripe Jersey
tomato color seeps
from a pen. A knit

cap worn in the middle
of May and a pair
of capris too. No

socks—ripe
or not. No word
on when the next

weather pattern
will arrive.

Depot Upper Deck

A spider
plant clings
to her
hair then lets
go. Up wooden

stairs to a higher
viewing ground. Buds
to become
leaves. Then
go off

while she waits
for the right
words to compress
into a pot
for later

use. Wanders
across borders
with dirt
sculpted into
velvet vignettes

with small tails.

May Day

Fuel leaks out
all over the tarmac
beneath the left wing.
Sandbags. Fire trucks.
Another night
in Austin. Back home
it’s still snowing.