James
Process
Healing is a good thing;
the knitting of sinew, flesh, and bone
back to once held form and function.
Gully
My grandmother leans over my innocent form –
grubby fingered,
dirty kneed,
the mud of sand and sweat
pasted in the folds of my neck.
Seasonal
All of September died in a day.
Action
My twinkling crib-stars have dimmed with suburban migration.
Age II
Curses cross lips faster than kindness.
Tectonic
Loamy clay pressed up from a valley –
Discovery
Whimsy and fancy play with the skirts of reality…
Alarm
I sing thee siren.
The Body
When the tire blew out, we had to move the body. There wasn’t a question about it, just several hushed breaths as our hearts leapt. “He’s drunk,” Nathan commanded. “Drunk, tried to help, and now wilted in the heat. Let’s just get him against the side of the car before anyone pops over the hill.” [...]
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