Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.

Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.

We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…

Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote

I would always rather be happy than
dignified. Rather held than held
in awe.

and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud

I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.

and apples, mackintosh mostly, but any kind left in The Pub
at the Assisted Living Place

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

Ma wrings
a wet world
of colors

I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.

You are strange, my mother said, dwelling on the past.

I tap at the alphabet while a single deer
taps at the dirt beyond the brush
on the far side of the tree line.

If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.

you know that
baby swallows make silver ripples
in wild rivers to court reeds?

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.