Between the Waves of Grief
In the Last Few Seconds Before I See You
I tread a damp verge
At sunset—closer, closer to where I know frogs are
Until one leaps—
(You open your door)
Long After I'm Gone, My Hair
in birds’ nests.
in the lining of that coat of mine you like (the one with the hole in the pocket).
in sewer pipes
in the ocean’s black deep, and (if I may wish it)
in between your back teeth, man I love, that you might savor the memory of how it came
to lodge there, and be all right,