Unmortared Bricks
by
Tiffany Owens, Ryan Murphy & Natalie Perfetti

in Tiffany's room, Friday, April 17

shaded hammock—
a handful
of chocolate eggs

the balmy evening
on this side of the window

a drop
of light, falling
fa l l   i       n             g

the wine bottle slips
              from her hands

too many moons
at her feet—
shattered glass

slower and
slower, still—sirens

•

bow song
    this voiceless arrow
snatched by wind

a whirlwind suspended
just above ground

figure skater
sequined blur
she spins

ice on the lake
his warm embrace

past the distant firs
a pair
of lost hikers

two crows
sitting on telephone wire

•

rustling leaves
sun and moon
in the same sky

entranced, they gaze
at the lava lamp

orange bean-bag chair
licking Cheeto-cheese
from my fingers

wrinkled pages
on the hardwood floor

cherry blossom bra—
silence
his little girl

teddy bear lost
in the woodchips

•

“I love you”
on the slide
in orange ink

citrus juice
rubbing a red eye

dying ivy
still connecting
unmortared bricks

the outline of the cathedral
burned in the ground

cigarette filter
still smoldering
in overflowing ashtray

Grandpa rocking
ranting about the gov’ment

•

past Christmas
empty gift bags
litter the porch

McDonald’s wrappers
on the good china

Jewish reception
mother and mother-in-law
smashing a plate

amidst the mayhem
a child with plugged ears

a sunflower field
in the moonlight—
a pigeon’s coo

crooked train tracks
no longer tied

•

in the winter sun
a katana
without its sheath

a man in a suit
enters a Volkswagon

abandoned school bus
without seats
our future home

firefly light
reflected in your eyes

last night’s bonfire
our first
cherry blossom sunrise

guests stagger home
I clean alone