Issue 2


The spray of deep greens
has reseeded itself
and grown again amidst
waxy succulents that expanded
all summer, pushing
their pale gray stars
across the basket you planted
and roped in with a now-rusting
chain – like the one you wore
long around your neck
the day you told me
what you carried,
held underground for now.

And along with the green shoots
surprising, a note on my door
saying you’d been there,
tacking your presence
boldly to my board,
a bright flash in the day,
a leaf turned to catch sun
when I’d wondered
what had become of you
and how you might carry on,
leaving your sheets behind,
sowing your words along the path.