"An Afternoon Alone"

It started with a sound.
One long lull meant to still be
After the trumpet player gasped
And collapsed.

We all fall down
And I would shatter if I was able.
Instead, I smear
Onto the next line.
Surely, the end is near.

When she awoke from that dream,
She turned to me out of habit and said,
Kiss me like the rapture's coming.
And we believed in Jesus
Just three seconds too late.

We held hands on that windy Wednesday,
Praying for forgiveness.
But God is bored.
He just pretends to pay attention,
Like I used to in the back pew.

Distracted by the colors of
Soot and ash and
The smell of gasoline.

The whole world's on fire
And you're just humming in my ear,
Too drunk to hear the crackles
Before the second coming.

"Reaching Back"

Underneath the medical tape and IV tube,
the bruises on my grandfather's arms
were blackberry stains.

He reached back to greet me,
three years past a time
when he could pull down
the wire cage that never completely
kept the birds away from the bush
and pluck berries into his bucket.

I held mine up high over my head
and hoped he'd put some in there,
too.