Up and Down the Stairs

Watched watched time
slip in every missed wooden swing
and pixelated glove’s plop

I ran up and down the stairs on
measured pink-speckled carpet,
to the basement, to the kitchen, to the basement,
to the kitchen – a treadmill’s dream, the incline
an inclination against elderly lethargy,
the seventh inning, an extra inning,
watery left eye saying, how do you move
so swiftly, turning to the tv to make a call for

the bullpen, the bullpen,
call in the bullpen,

call the hospital:
the only time I said I love you and
I croaked it

in my chest. The mumbled sine wave.
I clicked the phone off,
game ending, closer to the closer, the

closed door,
the casket we closed to forget.

 

(originally published in Corvus Review, Winter 2015 Issue)

Workday

pure coffee pleasure
drinking work travels
camping parties get-
togethers at work when
the printer is jammed i
move the tray until the
deadlines variegating
ironic pleasures and
cogs who do not turn
sleep when moving
uninterrupted clear
jars have a shine that
lights carburetor engines
grasping understated harmonies
in Kevlar mugs in which
infested apples seek light
order menially crisscrossing
borders of yellow shades
mashing front-up wonderful
mistakes marketing harmonica-
maudlin skaters receipt
upon leaves and green
greens until the market
crashes and crashes and seventeen
times i heard Pop-Secret popcorn
pop in the breakroom microwave

 

(originally published in Chronopolis, No. 3 – October 31, 2014)