Fjords Reviews

Originally Printed in Fjords
Volume 4, Issue 1

That morning light held
tight to the concrete. We threw
dirt on the feet

of the coffin lowering
to the grave

Feel it keen: the world off-
kilter. What I thought was
the hull of things

gone, this one so good at playing hooky
she never got caught

until now, with the color drained
from the landscape
as after a flood.

And I knew what
the living know: the wind
on my face, wet

with regret. I smoked a cigarette
under the stairs, leaned way out
from myself as from a balcony