After Life
Memory slithers, wicked. Its demands make / birds fly jagged into the false mouths of trees
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Question and Answer
When she left, / then returned, / a determined look / on her wet face, / he assumed she’d / come to retrieve / something forgotten
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Geese in Formation
You yourself are never an ending, / never collapse like the pinsetters’ set-up / or vanish like the smudged pencil
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Best Practice
You’d see them hauling speakers at a gig, / drinking Cokes and fondly reminiscing / about that night (the ketamine! The wig!)
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Palinopsia
If I cannot see you / properly, whatever you’re named, / are you still functioning as ode material?
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