chopping wood
someone does the same
       a moment later

walk’s end—
  the cold of his hand    
    shook mine

wedding reception—
the weight of her bottle
on the lip of my cup

sculpture garden . . .
the marble bench
cool through my jeans

Before the ether
flash
of a nurse’s cross

slicing papaya—
the swing
of her black pearls

sudden windbreak—
everyone pauses
to stare at the dog

sudden breeze—
the dog sniffs the hisses
of a gopher snake

crickets
the pulse in a hollow
of her neck

evening news
the soothing weight
of the quilt

plum blossoms falling...                  
     her fingers lift
            from the Braille

sniffing the air—
sharp emptiness
    of the approaching storm

starry sky—  
the aftertaste of iron
on my bitten tongue

aspen in the rain
each leaf drips with
the sound of autumn

         cold moon
still the weight of her baby
        in my arms

my cold foot steps on her bra still warm

opening a window
to hear the cicadas
continuing

Slime trail—
glancing back at
the glinting

summer’s end—
I let the thimbleberry
rest on my tongue

lit fish stall
open mouths darken
in the night

taking my glasses
the optician disappears
into the wall paper

hating him
between bites
of unripe plum

white and purple-
the scent of lilacs
is a ladder too

lime quarter…
an icecube collapses
over jazz

fire coals
the darker crackle
of pond ice

a solitary bird calls to the space between lightning and thunder

waking to
the scent of jasmine rice . . .
a dream?

heat shimmers
the flicker
of a lizard's tongue

symmetry
in the bare willows–
the shape of longing

rusted hinge
the butterfly’s wings
close, open