Northern

She believes in triangles—
would rather not
triangulate. Hates crowds,

loves New York. Sees
no contradiction. The third
sister balances

textures with the sound
of a quarter moon
hitting the February sky

over Loring Park. What lies between
Minnesota and New England

are all the stories
she has left
to tell.

Wadsworth Falls, CT

Where was she
when they were giving
out licenses? Which daydream
distracted her
from motorized
vehicles? Which water

fall, where did
the trail go? Sitting beneath

one with him naked
decades ago, she didn’t
really care. Pistol
factories, textile mills, flume
or sluiceway is all that remains.
As if she could return.