Perhaps the breath of a puppy is holy.
Understanding this is to know the thing of
Perpetual give-and-take, skin and paw.
Pacifying sprouting teeth, asking hinds to sit like a
Yellow thing. Ah, but no. Done right, it’s a holy hymn.
Mom was always blunt.
She relished it, I think.
Yesterday was no different.
At the bottom of our tombstone
do you want your name
to read Angela, or Angie?
Your Dad and I are here doing it.
After she got her answer,
That was all.
Good day, and goodbye.
My heart lurched.
A leg grows restless pushing on the accelerator.
Let the high beams pass.
Pull off just past the house on the right.
Turn left. I know a place.
An electric place shut down.
But you can drive around to the back,
&no one will bother us there.
Hurry, we have a minute.
i am good
no. i am a
day fading into
that is all.
i am a prayer
or maybe don’t.
i am a nothing
Prompted by Kerry over at Toads. My title is a line from Significant by Nishka Ramkhelawan, a talented young poet in 11th grade. Click to read the whole poem, & discover more incredible work Kerry has brought together at somewhere i have never travelled, a place to share student work.
Spectacular, really, that the dog gets along with the cat.
That the dog doesn’t growl when the girl puts a face into fur
that’s retreating under the kitchen table to take a break from
the yipping, the laughing, the cajoling, the holding & everything.
Spectacular, really, that the girl doesn’t cry when the cat
catches her finger and the girl catches sight of bright blood.
After a wash and a band-aid, the pink little girl says, thanks
and continues dangling string, horsing around & everything.
Spectacular, really, that the black crow who’s been carrying on
with some other black carrion over my rooftop the past two days
didn’t drop dead from the sky and land on my doorstep when
the girl came to see happy pets. That would’ve ruined everything.