Ripples of water
extend into days
we are wordless
with each other.
A storm breaks,
a dog whimpers.
We hear the groaning
Earth shifting
over countless hours
into the endless sea.
I’ve had enough
of windows,
where dreams
are a quick glance
over another
unfinished drink
in the middle
of the day.
(originally published in Count Seeds With Me, Spring 2022)
Through the west wall
our neighbors still
decide to get drunk.
You go into the basement,
pull out a red bag–
hammer and nails.
Framed photo of your great-
grandfather, we
slam it on the wall.
We’re stuffed
with a dry night
cough. We’re stuck
inside. Finally.
A good reason
for the rain.
(originally published in Hobart, Winter 2022; republished in HAD, Fall 2022)