In the Arboretum
I tune my guitar
to the bird who sings in almost E,
the one with almost perfect pitch
while counting 1 & 2, 3, 1 & 2, 3.
After Her Affair
Here’s what he does to reclaim the ravine:
He puts on leather gloves and strips
the bank of brambles. This takes weeks.
He burns the debris in a pile late one night
while sparks shoot out like stars into the dark.
Shaking Hands with the Dead
They took a piece of cadaver
and put it in my wrist,
dead ligament better than
no ligament at all.
[his smile]
I was born during the Cold War. I remember talking about nuclear war with my mom when I was a tiny child. I lived through Desert Storm, Bosnia, Somalia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. Endless unrest in the Middle East. Escalation with China. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. I’m tired of it. What reasonable, normal person wants war? It’s the worst thing we humans do. Now, we have this latest, indelible image of my governor signing munitions—killing machines to keep the war raging. Will we ever have peace?
All’s Fair
The bell rings
And Love and Hate come in for lunch
Love orders soup with coffee
Hate orders salad with whiskey