A Memory of Hands
American Metal
Aralık
Birdman
Blue
Charlevoix
Cop Cars
Evening, End of Summer
Flown
Free Swim
Habte
Hospice
How to Be a Grown Ass Lady
How to Breathe
How to Leave a Garden
How to Love a Telemarketer
How to Make a Thing to Believe in
Jurisprudence
Swimming Lessons
The Stylite Prays for Visions
The Weeping Widow
Their Names
When Trapped in a Car under Water
Hospice
Suzanne Simmons
“Who is coming for him?” the nurse asked,
and in my confusion I thought the gulls were
angels rising and falling through the fog.
Or, they could have been fighter planes from
an old movie reel. Flyboy, I swear the moon
stopped climbing, sat like a whole note between
the power lines. One. Two. Three. Four. I counted
seconds between your breaths. The strength of your
heartbeat still shook the bed. Later, pulling
into the driveway, my headlights caught possum
slipping behind the shed, his long pink tail
curling into shadow. Then the moon rose.
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and in my confusion I thought the gulls were
angels rising and falling through the fog.
Or, they could have been fighter planes from
an old movie reel. Flyboy, I swear the moon
stopped climbing, sat like a whole note between
the power lines. One. Two. Three. Four. I counted
seconds between your breaths. The strength of your
heartbeat still shook the bed. Later, pulling
into the driveway, my headlights caught possum
slipping behind the shed, his long pink tail
curling into shadow. Then the moon rose.