Make Believes

The same story
in seven different languages.
She can’t find hers. Where? Could be tucked
deep inside
those accordion folds. But, no,
this could be

his. To pretend

to be mute
at this late date could be
his one last act
before a hunger strike pulls
down the red curtain. Or, no,
that one might be

the one she abandoned
years ago at the roadhouse
now something else altogether.

Emerald Coat

She only hugs me
tighter when the wind picks up
fear and tosses it wickedly
through early fall air. I am proud

to say my hue draws
attention. She blushes
and says thank you as if
they were complimenting her, as if

it were her radiant skin
brightening up the morning. But
she can talk—I can’t. So
there’s that.