Troubleshooting & Other Shelters

Your drought year
is his neverending storm
of waterspouts in the sound
and splintered piers down-island.

Her search for the right river
to rest beside begins and ends here.
Their walk becomes a run.
A mile becomes nine.

The scratch of leaves skidding across
pavement awakens owls above
and a whole rafter
of wild turkeys below.

Soon, they’re strolling
down the sidewalk
like they own the place.
You know the kind I mean.

A jet leads a wedge
of geese across a clear sky,
or so it seems,
till the moment passes—

the plane heads east,
the birds going south.
You break a glass
in the sink.

No one hears you shout:
“Testing, testing.”
Your right hand holds
the red light, your left

lands here
where silt loam
and decaying litterfall
cradle her head.

Nothing will trouble
the waters tonight.

Whoever says there are no accidents
never lived inside this danger
hollow. You both know
what it means to eat dirt.

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