I'm going to try this...A "new" poem -- or partial new poem everyday of April. This game is led by Maureen Thorson and comes to my knowledge via Shanna Compton. This goes against every fiber of my existance. I hate self publishing. I hate sharing drafts. It takes me a good year to write a fine poem. But, I haven't been writing and if I don't start writing and stop doing the TIMES CROSSWORD my husband is going to stop feeding me!
from The Field Guide to Domesticity
for Mari and Liam
This landscape is left glowing.
Liam has left his wing splayed and broken
by the wayside.
He has forgotten himself
and followed the wild gypsy girls
down into the basketball court.
There is a constellation afixed to the sidewalk
where his fist pushed off.
What I am telling you is not mundane.
All the mothers call all the children,
the response gargled, random.