34. Contact tracer.

Isn’t that what you keep
track of
all the time
anyway
Who touched you
who you touched
Full time work
Part time work
4am work
Calling people saying
who do you know
that has this
stain on their
Face facts
I need you to face facts;
that forehead you
pressed on with
your finger
Don’t make your
point that way
Don’t push on
that woman’s head
You will get sick
like an idiot
An idiot that got sick
making a point
Answer the phone
Answer
the phone
You need to say
who you touched
It is your responsibility
now that you are ill
​
#weeklypoemandpic

32. first dates
a.
npo
the man's
head was
apart
from his body
and a hoop
passed
around it
and through
the space
where his
neck should
have been
a magic
trick
called
headless
man
b.
hard cider
from where he
lay on the
kitchen floor
as she knelt
over him
he asked
has the cider
come into
your milk yet
years before
she had tried
to stab him
through his heart
but with a spoon
#weeklypoemandpic

​30. Slightly rhyming

A.
A better
father

would eat
with his 
hands

the way
his
daughter
does.

B.
From the ferris wheel
gondola stopped
at its apogee
I squinted carefully
over the edge.

Something
I couldn’t
remember what
had already
dropped over
the ledge.

My son asked:
Dad are
you scared?
I wasn’t doing
well up there.
Not by a
long stretch.

C.
The dappled light on the car’s roof
a siren.

The square of light on the front door a proclamation.

We all have people we want to outlive
and the opposite too.

It’s not as though things end again and again but they do.

#weeklypoemandpic

27. Pandemic Restaurant Review 20/20

​Amb-
iation amb-
inol amb-
eotic amb-
ition pre-
serves itself
within Win-
ston’s walls.
It is loud but
the food
dies dies does
the talk-
inness talk-
scence talk-
ing. Rest-
ily rest-
long rest-
aurants are
from long a-
go go here
when you can
go a-gain. The
chicken kieff
is a com-
uter com-
ply com-
fort com-
plete sur-
rendur sur-
face -prise.
The pan- pan-
pan sauce
gave pause.
When was
des-sert -erv-
ing some thing
some time its
own re-
redline re-
turn re-
ward?
#weeklypoemandpic

Sirens grow louder. 
Rumors of sirens.  
People talk about 
what may come. 
They look up. 
They look across. 
They hear sirens. 
They think 
maybe ambulance
maybe police  
maybe firetruck. 
There are chants
and names
and we sit 
and we stand 
and we listen
and summer comes 
and sirens come
and sounds 
like sirens 
but not for you
and not for me
maybe for you
maybe for me
and a sound 
like a siren 
that sings 
of silence 
and insects calling 
and my son is calling 
for no sirens 
and for sleep. 
We don’t want
to talk we want 
to sleep and the 
moon sieved 
through the leaves
is quieter than 
the sirens. 
Momma cut the 
branches away
from the neighbor tree 
so the moon could 
come through
or was it so 
the sun 
could strike 
the garden 
or to hear 
the sirens better 
and wonder​

#weeklypoemandpic