this is the risk

awoken by a lot of lightning
a little wind
and some light rain
as seen and heard from the windows
of the loft bed perch
how the day begins:
wiping a hand across my brow
and finding a tick there
which i remove and drop
into the jar of alcohol
(this is the risk i take sharing
my bed with cats)

the trail of heartthrob (the game) cards
that cynthia and i find along the highway
and read outloud
as we walk and place recyclables in one bag
and trash in another

mystified by the scent in my room
unable to place it until i remember
the lilacs
in the shade of the karma pond trees
near granola’s grave
a tin of salmon passed
back and forth
the whine of the orbital sander in my hands
as i pass it over and over the walls and dividers
of the left side of my future desk
working on sawhorses outside karma
where inside in the shop
i can hear cynthia’s nail gun
attaching the drawer parts
to each other
yesterday night’s fireflies that i forgot to mention yesterday
(how i had to pause in the little forest path to discern what the collection of brief and singular shimmers were)
and how i encounter them again tonight
on my dusk path walk down
to the sugar shack
 from the water world:

Indian laborers transport bamboo logs down the Longai River near the Tripura-Mizoram state border in Damchara. – voice of america, day in photos


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