Monday, March 17, 2014

Stars Are Tiny

as the overlooked grain of rice
left on the burner to smoke
beneath the half-full copper kettle;

as the gnat caught on the wing
and slapped between palms
a thousand-times harder than necessary;

as the dry red spots
along my collar that beg me
to just go double-bladed;

as the thinning of her smile
between that day and now –
a reduction that resembles

the just-this-much-more-slowly
I walk from my truck to our house
in the twilight of each long day.



Boston Literary Magazine - Spring 2014

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