Night Heron
What now? You’d flown infrom a Midwest city namedfor its rowdy summertimeabundance lying saying youwere coming to visit friendsin San Francisco and I had takenthe train from chilly Oaklandto meet you and we rode northcarefully not touching I took youto the tiny one-room apartmentI had escaped to after a badbreakup and fried us nervouslysome potatoes in a cast iron pana little rosemary which wedid not eat because you kissedme hard and we went in a rushto the mattress I bought off a guyin a semi-famous band and had onlythe day before gotten offthe floor and onto the pinewoodbedframe I’d found and hoistedon my back and carrieddown out of north Berkeley armswide weaving through the sidestreetstoeing the center line to avoidsnagging the buckeyes leaning outit was about sufferingin public it…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, March/April 2022