Bonnie Roy & Megan Kaminski

 

from SEVEN TO DECEMBER

this morning oiled over asphalt
branch slick and no sun to warm
moth affixed to glass pane to gray sky
whirring motors splinter tree to mulch
men in the driveway men on the street
leaf-fall and shortening of day
dear Bonnie, it is not so cold I lied before
it is just that it is lonely in Kansas
state-lines unforgiving mouths chalked
and my hands their softness cracking
eyes turned downward teeth soaped in salt

 

*

with shorter days and north descending and
me all about weather and cold stone too
this heart choke rankles this arm festering
soreness outward branching east
westward carry of sky and wheat dear Bonnie
I went south last week warmed myself
Topeka coffeeshop sharp counter currency
tail-tuck and finger-wag and people paying
for things that want requires of us all
these words stolid these leaves unwrest
this stirring this stiffening of flesh and innards

 

*

with shorter day of rain all through
and splatter of light on shielded drive,
it’s always desperate here and then
a little wet and so little wet, reservoirs
nervous, November just the second inch
of unsunny weather. dear Megan, I bury
in it a cloud and scrap and skein,
float drift, weave weft, all interlocking
stories of softness damping it down.
I think things will all be better.
I leave the linoleum shining all night.

*

*

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