in the hospital atrium after the wreck
I read his decision to wear camo to the hospital as meaningful rushes and reedscross the body bend and breakartificial topiaries catch his thin cotton sheethis lone tab of blue thread, his far edgeoutside, the wind blows and the leaves, but the trouble staysbetween elevations hushlook up at the canopy of green shoots, even heresmall green notations slumped into soft white wicker outdoor furnitureall the people like rough stones, sit out and the light hovers over themif the weather is nice almost anybody can be revivedwhen everything passes through a condition of floradon’t pick the flora, letgo, what pain is there room for, amongthe poppies? they have dwarfed meheat dipping each little neckI see a man on the same corridor, who I also mistakefor…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, November/December 2018