Blood Test Poem

Homework done and trash out --
my goal now is finish this meal without tears,
get to the kitchen and wrap the greens
and bones, little losses we won't toss.

There is no warning gong or whisper
when naivete turns like found cream.
I carry your faltered wilting in my throat,
unwilling to swallow or vomit.

Three days until a pay check,
still no overdue bills, but even
blankets in a car would be enough
were I to lose sleep hearing you breathe.

Goose Against a Blue Salmon-Skin Sky

Windows make me want to be elsewhere,
stop me mid air so I can plan to be cold,
scan what I've got in the closet to layer

and entertain potential worlds here in the house:
high maple holding a stone statue squirrel;
shuddering estuary slate-still before the falls.

So I am as much sitting at the black coffee table
as in the coupe seat driving through Chatham,
the wind blowing God's thoughts into my head,

memorizing the river that shuttles the hills
with strands of snow fall, clouds drawn down,

forgetting the lines of my hands branching
from the pattern of scales and feather vanes.