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.
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.
I’ll write everything down
so I can forget
you and how you were my last
smoking one, my last
lover to take flame
so literally, the one daily
companion left to invite me
to climb those pariah stairs. It’s time
to put you in the cupboard
behind those pans I never use.
The only things left to shake
are these hands—then they’ll quit too.