God, understood here as a necessary being,
exists in my filthy shoe. The impossibility
of nonexistence shows good weather is
vague. Sunshine during workdays, storms on
weekends make me want a world of reverse
gravity. My filthy shoes, then, muck
the clean white clouds of heaven.
(originally published in A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Winter 2023)
on mornings of annoyances 20-degree cold
sneaks through windows between my teeth
ices milk with each spoonful of Cheerios
& lukewarm coffee you study flipping
quickly the notebook flicking several gales
then scrawl in red pen what I assume curses
so I respond with this handful of nothing words
recyclables inside non-recyclable plastic I know
if I communicated better you wouldn’t be
ripping out perforated pages wanting to move
on but the cat watches winter leaves whisk
by the window & tonight it will snow
(originally published in The Seventh Quarry, Summer 2023)