Issue 5


Peeling an apple for Theo, I swipe  

a red triangle from my knuckle.  

My palsied left is clumsy, always 

collateral. After filling forms  

for the dissolution of our marriage,  

Lili refuses to sleep  

in the study with me and heads  

to the bedroom. Morning comes and we’re still 

married, as always: It’s the morning  

of the neighborhood garage sale.  


Theo intercepts a leaf skidding across Birch. 

He presses it to his chest and the wind 

pins it there like a butterfly. He stoops  

to rubber tire shred of once  

an earthworm, once upon a time, and hands  

it to my unassuming hand 

on Willow where a man sprays the forms  

of a new driveway with diesel,  

where the low sun lays out our shadows, 

where we’re still married.