Natural Climbers

Straw was a factor
in his fall. No one drowned
in the river
that day. No more bridges


that year. Hay is for
the rest of the time
he considers descent.

I Remember Vodka

Is it enter or exit
through the red door—I
forget. A tumbler stands
squat on that counter. It was that easy

to reach across
decades to discard those too vivid
memories. A high pitched voice ruins
this whole non-narrative

hymn. I crumble
on a stoop behind a threshold
wide enough for both ways.