SHAKILY

Gone for just a second and afraid. Move the table cloth – it sounds like seltzer, fresh, suspicious. There is nothing on the table but a plastic ring. Quick drain, goodbye,
it’s gone.

Not answering the story, there is no answer to the story,
just space and things and time. Running water for
what purpose.

Some filling for the after dinner dough.

Moving lips, the pretty spaced teeth between,
softness from anything
that young.

And one word laced throughout, spotted like
skinly textures you notice
the longer you know.

Would you rather it be private, a list of what you mean you meant?

One after another, like advent, the coming-of.

Or just the bottom lashes, silver carvings from a
tremendous town, asleep.

Clear for construct, shakily.

Somber water, somber somebody.
Log, paper, apple. Electric lights and
frigidaires.

She puts the whole chip in her mouth. Lonely tasks, Alaska.

Gold sting at the pitch. Serrated snow,
a steep descent.