first published in Across the Margin, July 12, 2017
The drawbridge over Lake Union
opens its arms to the late low sun.
It’s halfway between something
opens its arms to the late low sun.
It’s halfway between something
and nothing―brimming wineglass,
empty houseboat.
And it doesn’t remind me of anything.
empty houseboat.
And it doesn’t remind me of anything.
Rainier a white wizard over my
shoulder, illuminated, quiet.
Enough is never enough.
shoulder, illuminated, quiet.
Enough is never enough.
I think you grew up a liar too,
your heart an empty bag
rattling around a bus stop on exhausted breeze.
your heart an empty bag
rattling around a bus stop on exhausted breeze.
Each sidewalk in this town is a
climb. I seek you in every step,
find only precious birdskull
climb. I seek you in every step,
find only precious birdskull
on the curb; winding stairs to a front door.
I don’t hear any guitars
in Seattle today.
I don’t hear any guitars
in Seattle today.
