I crave the steady and the swing.
I crave the crystalline trampolines
that hurtle me seven hundred feet
into glimmering onto an Eiffel Tower
stage before the work of Einstein
activates and demands ricochet.
(originally published in 1001 Journal, Spring 2017)
Watched watched time
slip in every missed wooden swing
and pixelated glove’s plop
I ran up and down the stairs on
measured pink-speckled carpet,
to the basement, to the kitchen, to the basement,
to the kitchen – a treadmill’s dream, the incline
an inclination against elderly lethargy,
the seventh inning, an extra inning,
watery left eye saying, how do you move
so swiftly, turning to the tv to make a call for
the bullpen, the bullpen,
call in the bullpen,
call the hospital:
the only time I said I love you and
I croaked it
in my chest. The mumbled sine wave.
I clicked the phone off,
game ending, closer to the closer, the
the casket we closed to forget.
(originally published in Corvus Review, Winter 2015 Issue)