The jumpers wake us after landing, laughing & packing their parachutes into tight bundles in the sloping field outside our window. So we turn
…I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else left to read / there where you have landed… —Adrienne Rich I
It was an ordinary day riding home on the bus, the sun slanting low through the window where I sat reading a book, listening
I felt a lump, just below my left ear, well I’ll die, why not. Give it up, the lost keys sparkling in the corner