Trust

I did not listen to my inner
monologue when it told me
to stay home and watch

The Novice. I went to Trace
Brewing when it was bright
but you sat in the dark

when I needed light. I
said one drink, one drink
only, then on the two-block

walk back the clouds
were down, they felt
attached to you and

I kept stepping on
plastic bags and
scrunched-up napkins.

To arrive home I had
to bisect my conscience
and wait: how much

of myself to give
after giving?
The water tower

in the distance
a perpetual blue
balloon.

(originally published in DoubleSpeak Magazine, Spring 2023)

Exhaustion

The rain falls, turns to ice.
In my periphery the knot

in the blinds’ pullstring slinks
down but when I turn I see it

has not moved. Still the afternoon.
Now it’s dark. I have not slept.

The rain keeps my heart wet.
I want to come home soon.

Missed the changing of the leaves.
They’re dead now, waiting

on another season, the one
that beckons bees. I

want to do so much today,
but I haven’t started.

(originally published in Review Americana, Winter 2022)