POSTCARD
It is just beautiful –
the waves look like nothing
and the stars
choke on the air.
VARIOUS DISTANCES
I still can see you,
on the steps without
a coat,
because I said
it wouldn’t rain.
The spots on your new shirt
were distant suns
that would outlive us.
MY FATHER’S DOGS
My father dreamed
of dogs:
coils of teeth
and narrow eyes.
He fought them
in his sleep
beneath antique
chandeliers
and hotel ceilings.
He told me I was safe
but he would not say
their names.
CLUB POOL
Tan lines on my feet
are marking borders
like parched grass.
BEFORE I LOST YOU
It was August –
dumb with heat.
The sweat against my neck
was an old scar – a flash
of gold.
Our thighs burned
on the seat
of the old fishing boat
your father never used.
On the reservoir we drifted over canyons,
kicked our feet swimming a mile above
old riverbeds and skeletons
of trees.
We didn’t realize that water was a grave:
bright and stunned.
I still think of your pale hand,
on the boat’s thin metal heart,
pressing gently.
