FROST

 

In the middle of a wild canyon

I came upon handprints 

on a frost-covered stump.

You left them there 

when I wasn’t looking.

 

I have seen those hands

every day since our walk

in my mind. 

The image of them

continues to open

and warm my heart.

REALITY TV

 

A distant sky

suddenly got closer.

 

A flat screen TV

and its red roses

 

cavort for the one

bachelorette.

 

A pajama party,

giddy under blankets,

 

smacks its fragrant lips.

All the while

 

life moves like

an approaching

 

anniversary, holding

its breath before a candle

 

that burns brighter

as the days grow darker

 

and the pandemic is the norm

we know. A place to settle into.

RIVERBED

 

What was once shrapnel

works its way as diamond

up through a deep alluvial vein

to the surface and into a riverbed

called relationship. This is the site where

the artisanal digging and sifting begins.

THE SCOURGE

 

Yesterday I burned a pot black,

 while steaming beets.

 

All the red-juiced water evaporated

when I wasn’t looking.

 

Was burned into thin air, leaving

the cookware scorched to a crisp.

 

I took steal wool

to the pot’s bottom

 

and scrubbed

my little heart out.

 

I did this on the day

the election results came in.

 

I scrubbed as hard as I could

to remove the scourge for good.