January 6, 2016Cocktail Hour
Measuring out gin in squat glasses,
you ask, “How did I get this way?”
Presumably you’re thinking
about the calamity of small moments,
and the things gravity has done,
given its indomitable patience,
or perhaps you mean the flawed men
you fell for, right up to me,
or the array of pets you’ve loved and lost.
I want to say that you’re a gift to this world—
which is as true as anything. But you’ve already
turned away, cold glass in hand,
to watch red ants, in a rope-thick line,
pour out of the ground and march toward us,
small and determined, ready to take what they can.
from #50 - Winter 2015