SEPARATION
the hangtime
of a tossed football
separation
separation
the balcony again
in shadow
fish heads
in a bucket
separation
separation
the town square flag
at half mast
fog
in
the
forecast
separation
the birthday cake
store-bought
separation
the ice finally shifts
as I tip my glass
separation
shuttered windows
on the family cottage
separation
a gargoyle’s laugh
from atop the cathedral
separation
gas prices
lower today
separation
last out
of the little league game
separation
whether the stop lights
are green or red
separation
the firemen
washing a ladder truck
separation
flecks of rust
beneath the anchor
separation
the kids’ shoes
lined up at the door
separation
separation
another poem
about sandcastles
the patter of rain
on the forest path
separation
—from Rattle #55, Spring 2017
__________
Michael Dylan Welch: “I hope the poems I write might resonate with at least one reader—that can sometimes be enough. A poem is a door, and whether it’s ajar or not, you’re invited to open it wide. My ‘Separation’ sequence is an exploration of many things that word might mean, but more in an experiential rather than intellectual sense. Perhaps at least one reader might connect with it.” (web)
