today’s bright brightness

swooping shadow
on green grass ground
where i walk along lookfar beds
and when i look up
the black of turkey vultures
skyswimming against today’s bright brightness

down to the neon sportsbra again,
hoodie, long sleeve shirt, tshirt and neckercheif
piled/spilling over the mulch
near the door of the hoophouse
while i bend down towards
dead nettle and more dead nettle


the rhythm of my hands
shifting/raking compost
across the screen frame draped across
the galvanized steel tub
balanced on two five gallon buckets
in the sun outside the greenhouse while inside
tyler plucks small pepper plants
just growing into their first true leaves
out of their rows in flats and into
their new soilblock homes

four krispy kreme doughnuts
imported from springfield
on a paper plate sealed inside
a gallon-size zip lock bag

unsure whether it’s an owl pellet or coyote scat
but i bring in the bones/claws/teeth we pass around and
a small puff of hair/fur from the pile
found on top of mulched north garden bed

not sure how it takes
forty years and todays news to hit me:
mom: uterine cancer
dad: cancerous moles
grandma voeltz: lung? cancer
uncle henry: somewhere in there cancer (maybe lung?)
great grandma voeltz: another some-where-in there cancer
dad’s dad: stomach cancer
so when you ask if there is a
family history of cancer i will now respond
yes while being clear that this
is not a permission my body is casting out
but rather an obersvation
out across bloodlines

that women are insubordinate to men
because eve sinned in the garden of eden
baigz says about the what-we-believe
sunday school session he went to
at trish’s parents’ baptist church

it is so like us to joke
about the apparentness of the
fictional brian disease after we’ve looked
quietly in at the suspicious mole news of
cancerousness (slow-growing and easy to eradicate)

dobronotz mom and i say
back and forth before we
say goodbye

the quiet array of glimmerings
(stars) in an inky sky
what a wonder to step out into
and move around under


how i have been simultaneously
feeding myself and busting my heart
by re-visiting emails of courtships and collaboration and
by re-reading all the details written in the
days of heartswellburstbreakcollapse
some sortof witchy power of being able
to be here while going back to that self there
to hold everything that is broken
so she doesn’t have to
from the water world:
Men throw water on a woman as part of traditional Easter celebrations in Szenna, Hungary. – voice of america, day in photos

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