Driveway
You say depression
revs its engine when
leaves change. It’s easy
to hear outside your door.
Mine means walking
the same driveway every
day until colors fade,
then looking down
to find them
in a hole.
Fish Cakes
we talk on the phone I fry fish
cakes the Allegheny does not grant
the wish to feed earlier I was on
the balcony facing blood-bricks missing
your voice calming my afternoon you had
a good day walking hills around monroeville
mall in the midst of after-winter I mash
every piece of me my brain a shoelace
dragged across cement connected
to heart how stuffed they are
with crème fraîch once I swam
through air on my way to you
arms ahead my tether tender
with wind when I needed
to breathe I provided
for you instead
A Letter to Nadia in Animal Crossing
night is peaceful here on ponder–
i catch damselflies thinking of
the coconuts we ate when exploring
your island, running carefree
with red-sun noses.
