Inside Out

Most people slidesnugly through like columnsin a counter.She dropsthem in sortingsilverware,stacking plates.They spin like clothesin a glass-doored dryer,then teeteratop the othersbefore settling slowly, uniformly.A few refuse to fit.Oddly patterned,too thick…

Blue Paper and All

Your file in my mind's cabinetmeasures sharply thin.Others, fat and heavy,barely contained in the manila,scraps of scribble-stockedmulticolored paperstuffed inside ...1. White knucklesgrasp the tractorsteering wheel.He presses figure eightsinto the yard,exorcisingits…

In Residence

Deep in the purple velvet corner of her mind,he sprawls across an overstuffed leather sofa,guzzles beer after beer,clips his toenails into the carpet.Months since I walked out into the rain.And…

The Hike

When the mountain laughs,maybe it's time to trek down a bit,blisters and aches.It's easier going where you've already been.The snow's no more shallow, no less in your face;the sun's glare,…

Ice

Frozen in time,in place.Words kick me in the stomach,tease me with their hints.Images on the tip of my tongue.Brilliant, odd wordsfrozen inside me.An igloo around my brain.I plead,Heat, come.Spark me.Release…

On a Starry Night

On a starry nightshe curls up like a Persianon her bed.Past the faded leavesand dead bugson her ceiling window,she spies the star,the one that blinkspale greenthen deep pink.Almost like Christmas.Once,…

Burnt Toast: A Study

Wednesday at seven-o-five he slammed the dooryou pulled yourself up off the beige kitchen tile,wiped your mouth with the backside of your hand.He skidded out into the road in his…

Gazebo

Not a quart of iced tea,chilly beads of sweat sliding down the sides of the glass pitcherand pooling on the green formica.They drink a toast to the sun and the…

Embryonic Rhapsody

I imagine you tiny—two Q-tips long—blonde hair shiny,eyes bright as silver,mouth open in delight,full of giggles and diamonds.You tumble atop cotton ball clouds,bound through golden mansion rooms,sway to jazzy harp…

Mamie at the Mission

First thing this mornin'—before I open my eyes—I smile.Metal scrapin' on metal I swear.It's mama fryin' eggs and baconin that ole thick black pan,lookin' over Jordan.Swing low, I sayThen I…