sweeper
Eight-hundred slender fingers / on a bound hand / gently kiss the contours / of the plane
Eight-hundred slender fingers / on a bound hand / gently kiss the contours / of the plane
Today’s poem is the first January River thing that’s been published elsewhere, which is really exciting! Check it out!
Butt cheek! / Butt cheek! / my daughter proclaims / to the world
The floor is paved with wooden planks / rough and scratched / peeling, mismatched
At six forty-six p.m. / they’re still laying great big chunks of granite / in the yard