By Cassie Lewis
’Cause it’s alright, alright to see a ghost.
— The National
Rock quartz next to a fence with upturned faces.
On the hill, on the other side
a storm, or plausibly, you.
Time keeps its footsteps regular until it is clapped upwards:
a falcon glides into view.
Dissolving into the pool in a splash of white,
I saw you. In summer,
the town goes to the drive-in.
The edges of the coin keep moving
as I stare at images through goggles, they
Rooms go to pieces, sometimes, quietly. Curtains
are no longer red, now they’re dusty. The cat
moves. The room turns ocher
and shifts, as wind blows through.
O Brecht’s sky of streaming blue. It’s been days since I opened the book
my face is watching. Cupboards slam in another part
of the flat. The room reassembles,
but it’s different now —
More Poems about Living
if time is queer/and memory is trans/and my hands hurt in the cold/then
there are ways to hold pain like night follows day
not knowing how tomorrow went down.
it hurts like never when the always is now,
the now that time won't allow.
there is no manner of tomorrow, nor shape of today
only like always having...
Here’s an Ocean Tale
My brother still bites his nails to the quick,
but lately he’s been allowing them to grow.
So much hurt is forgotten with the horizon
as backdrop. It comes down to simple math.
The beach belongs to none of us, regardless
of color, or money....