each time a glass is raised to mouth & drank
each time it’s clear water’s the last to go take
a river under forever dry ground a waterfall
bounding from nothing the sky is ocean
we drink it falling filling another cup
to restore us where to place this treasure
& we live we break the faucet
(originally published in WordCity Lit, Spring 2023)
Tulip tree in Alaska. Cold
and wild. Rembrandt blue
Christmas lights, shepherd
pie a warmth of familiar metal
stovetop. Doorstep. Gold
beneath nothing but rusted shovel
mnemonic arms repping
dumbbells. Must be strong
in clumps of conviction. The south
says the creator God’s a yes.
Freeform jazz. Bubbled
champagne. Festivals devoted
to home. Houston before me,
Texas a pink tie knotted.
(originally published in bluepepper, Winter 2018)