A fire anniversary singes
early fall before
a cool rain drenches Friday the

13th. She always dreamed
she would meet
a singer with The

for a middle name. This
and so many other
lies have seeped

into the Devil’s Backbone
over the decades. Plied
with drink, a long ridge,

a flooded buffalo
trail, a spring-fed
pond, a hidden creek,

a relocated waterfall,
a collection of ghost islands,
and that story of how

no one holds the key
to the boiler room.
The action evaporated

with those spontaneously
ignited dances. And your definition
of this is no life

does not register with her

or her
band of solitudes.
She folds

clean clothes
and blankets
each week

no matter
how sad
you get.