Windward Islands
She stares at a cloudburst
through the window of a blue bedroom.
Picking up the nightstand phone,
she speaks to someone
in another hemisphere,
innocent of where they are,
but tells them nonetheless,
You’re not in a …
She stares at a cloudburst
through the window of a blue bedroom.
Picking up the nightstand phone,
she speaks to someone
in another hemisphere,
innocent of where they are,
but tells them nonetheless,
You’re not in a …
Summer goes abandoned.
The October-strewn ditchbank
runnels beside my path,
sparing my footfalls any echoes.
Nothing glows but late asters and goldenrods.
The only words I’d speak
would be unwise counsel to no one,
certainly not the cardinal or …