sunday afternoon . . .
his math homework
in crayon

the fading sky
making the flyers
invisible

in the crack
of the mountainside
thatch-roofed hut

cold slaw and old bread
a prisoner
asks for seconds

hiking up
mountain tops
rocks bigger than me

not for forgiveness
he prays—
hands in his pockets

cold sore
garlic on my breath—
he tries to kiss me

smoky crags
a bell
from the mountain top

unable to lift
my head from the pillow
early frost

late to work
stopping to watch
a snail cross

a branch breaks,
the sound muffled
by the clamor of the city

a jar of olives
i eat the one
unpitted

i peek through curtains
watching my neighbor
plant flowers

midnight run
an owl hoots as I chase
a burglar

bobbing straw hat
lost in
the cornfield

homeward
I pass
my old stalker

winter argument—
i'm sorry
scribbled in snow

eating a peach
i feel the juice
color my shirt

kayaking
another rapid
overboard

i reread your love letters
and those rose petals
crumble to my touch

my father's repainted car
empty on the roadside—
I keep driving

lull me to sleep…
warm blankets
under the laptop

lost sight of the shore
the rock of the boat
lulls me to sleep

mountains,
so much older...
than I

the pregnant bride-to-be’s father
judges me
by my music

vibrant roses
lying
on a gravestone

hanging decorations
in the window
yadhtrib yapph

cracked voice
singing to me…
dry night

a love letter
sent to my boss...
accidently

we pull in the driveway—
the willow doesn’t shade
his hand on her thigh