Most of the soil takes in the seeds and what are left darken into the volcanic loam. One sunbeam each for the sprouts. The
You sit on a stool across the butcher-block bar, plastic bag sagging around the box of hair color and the bottle of wine you
praise the way the stairs hang in infinity rise to the attic where old histories are stored: dressmaker’s dummy, butter churn, a dusty sextant–