RUST, AND OTHER INEVITABILITIES
paper cut on a cardboard box
dandelions’ fluff in the garden bed
sour milk forgotten in the fridge
moisture caught in the bread bag
upended toy chests
piles of books on the floor
the way a body sags towards its end
gray streaks our hair
daffodils coming up in green points
rain on the dry earth
the rewilding of once-manicured lawns
cracked teeth
a rush towards the next day
layers of dust on the bookcase’s top shelves
our bodies turned back into earth
thin orange gash in the stainless steel
the spring song of the redwing blackbird
snow in April in Ohio
hands reaching out in prayer
hands reaching for momma
hands clasping each other’s in passion
hands withering and shaped into roses
hands crossed over hearts
hands, shadows of leaves in ancient trees like
hands.