the ground on which we stand
is sometimes so uncertain —
All articles filed in unlabeled
not the end.
it is finished. and
because He lives, that means
this is not the end.
lunch hour
the water pooled beneath the peonies
trickled in rivulets across the rocks
imago dei
he sat huddled in his black puffy parka
on his black plastic chair
at the bottom of the exit ramp
sometimes
sometimes the words won’t come —
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clean
i finally got my feet washed.
they were sore from a day
of running and standing still,
of impatience and veiled pride,
and i wondered, as i sat in the pew,
whether the one who washed them
would be able to smell the sweat
from my socks and shoes.
dressed for spring
midway up the hill
the neighbor’s weeping fig
is dressed for spring
a gown of bridal white blossoms
shielding leafless branches.
faucet
drip drip drip drip (is that the raindrops or the sink or my nose?)
Read Morethe harlequin chair
knit a row purl a row feel the ache in your arms as you finger chipped glass life is good going somewhere you assume wondering about endings cover letters resumes india ink and paint detective novels chocolate milk and wishing for a face the one you know never belongs to you you want to live…
Read Morefifteen from midnight
it was midnight i had dust on my eyelashes and there was paint on the floor on which i lay stomach-down and serious where does time go on holiday and why does my neck feel like i’m eighty rather than twenty when i have roommates i’ll volunteer to cook so long as they’ll wash up…
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