Every Reason
Taking more drugs and not sleeping
as well, just napping between moonlit
panic attacks: ovens left on in dreams
now on fire, and we can’t remember if
we left a realization behind, or another
cancelled deadline–all I can focus on
is distraction, like birds wheeling away
down a fence a block long, just a swirl
of bodies in motion, six feet at a time,
landing purposefully, then disperse: oh
what will I do when the season of long
walks has passed, and the afternoon sun
cannot stroke me with warm confusion,
even if this year the peaches were only
orange skin-wrapped stones, perhaps
having to do with hard water or sandy
soil, or hard times, but we must make
pie, whipping our cream into stiff peaks,
preparing for dessert, for the lies within
a blueberry or blue raspberry.… Read the rest