poems.

 

I seem to remember that I went to the new house one winter day and saw snow descending through the attic to the upstairs bedrooms. It could also be that I never did any such thing...
— William Maxwell, "So Long, See You Tomorrow"

artifact

 

i found a

             mussel

open as wings

its halves

still attached

 

picked clean

 

fresh licked

briny

 

brittle blue fossil

little lungs

 

wind

picks up

greenish scent

of sea salt

               lingers

against the

memory

of hot weather

peppers

 

as if i am

snow bound

fire warm

spooning up

linguine

 

     drink this

white

from the hills

of vesuvius

 

glass jars of

san marzanos

in the cupboard

 

bowl of shells

on the table

 

photo: jill tomasetti
 

desire  

 

in the story

               i told myself

desire

curls up inside

a walnut shell

like an ocean wave

arching its back

before the pounce

 

sometimes

we let it

sleep

 

don’t take

          my hand

 don’t

                hold

 

                me