red baby shoes
hung on the wall,
the nailheads shining
against a grey sky
mimosa blooms expanding—
afternoon mail
your cell phone ring tone
on someone else’s phone:
daylight savings time
pulling out crabgrass
in the pavement—
the smell of soil
butterfly;
never again
to the same leaf
into the corn
the blue of his eyes
follows the diving hawk
in a hole under the statue
of the king,
the rustle of rats
my own voice
from far away returning
in the ambulance
the hobo at ease
in the gloaming,
eating my tomatoes
