Mitchell Ponds Inne

This the getaway
we take our butterflies to
yearly– the wings, do you

have a sinking
feeling?
And slugs
slither along the sauna.

We toss cold water
over hot coals
of indifference.

There used to be no
privacy screen
over the windows

so we were on full
display, an everyman’s
Monet or Mona Lisa.

On the last day
of our relationship
you asked, do I look okay?

I said you
look okay
. More swimming,
more coming-up-for-air,

coughing the words
out, choking on the heat
inside each one.

(originally published in Red Tree Review, Spring 2024)

The Bird an Echo

Above me, wing soundwaves visible, a flapping
back to easier days, a communal grass I could
not know I was missing, but did. Voices in my head
clamor for them, always, from windows in the bathroom,
the glowing lights’ buzz, this temporary body, not simply
the hands washed, nor the heart, the mouth, the tongue,
each breath, each thrill, each paper airplane landing on
its own brown rectangle of nothing.

(originally published in Unlikely Stories Mark V, Winter 2023)

Jessie Must Think I Am Pathetic

Another gray sky day, empty gas tank worries in the countryside
nowhere don’t you long for my touch? Oz runs just far enough
for the bone against the backdrop of my outstretched arm
hand out fingers extended & I don’t know where I stand with Jessie
except she must find me pathetic as she walks into water under the
influence of Dr. Dog & now she swim-dances the past three days she’s
walked along the rock edge of the pool. & now I need to text Tony Z.
what’s a man most afraid of? I’m getting used to inadequacy. Oz brings
his bone to the other side of the fence. Jessie says she misses the green,
the pool purified at the beginning. Sara throws pong ball through
the hole of a lime lifesaver floatie and a butterfly metaphor soars
above the water. Have you ever almost drowned on drugs? I don’t
recommend it. The lesson is gravity’s not the occasionally falling apple
but the drifting leaf toward the other side, whatever the definition. September
third and we just got our first sunburns. Hannah leaves the house after
work and like a magic trick, three pong balls appear in the water
and the sun reveals itself a moment. Oz lays in the grass in front
of me before a philosophical discussion about casserole and how to cope
with beans bought at the beginning of pandemic we will never eat.

(originally published in KNOT Magazine, Fall 2021)