Traveling Lighter in Increments

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.

Still Alarm

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.