all the open arms awaiting

refilling the small tin
that goes everywhere i do
with the triple spice mix
(cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom
plus some bonus ginger and
a pinch of turmeric)
_______
meg the border collie and i
reunited for the first time since our
house-sitting partnership
how she snorts and snuffles
and does all those other excited dog things and
how i’m delighted to receive the love
_______

i made an agreement not to scream
i say about the post-frisbee dip
in the 40-something? degree pond
_______

all the open arms
awaiting in the
mercantile glow
(kurt, alline, meadoe
plus alyson gave me a hug on
the frisbee field instead of
a hi-five)
_______

it’d be like finding a contact lens
we laugh about looking
for the new moon in the night sky
_______

first-dusk hunter i say
to/about trish whose hands are
red-brown with blood (darkening
and becoming a sticky second skin)
and who leaves a warm bag of organs
in a bowl on the kitchen table
_______

like walking through a house made of honey
smell of beeswax is the only thing the air
is made of while arielle stands at the stove
patiently dipping and dipping the wicks again
and again

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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