Aught, no. 14 (2005)
Chicago Review 48, 2/3
The window examining— The sky
hesitantly opens the cloud—
Blooming as always— Tiny
fists from milk—
Be this blue— Clouds are
my next—
The photo beaming— Women,
glossy diagrams— The chest
a futile show—
A cold cheek
listening— Smiles through
too much—
Late on lovely— The hospital
remembering— A continent
behind— The concrete
we tried to be—
If she's lucky she'll come— You'll recognize
her when she comes— The whole picture
comes, a robot for the moment—
Full of falling, I admit
I am failing that experience
of standing— Dizzy spells
get better— When did our bed
stop being lit like a museum—
Some mistake gated— Too bad I'm not—