July 2004 / Volume Five / Issue Three / Online
Jonathan Hayes
for Phoebe

she bangs an upper-case "H"
on the olí purple typewriter

that she gave me for my birthday

she takes the paper out

and plays w/it
on the carpet

in front
of the t.v.

a cat

then she gets up

smiles at me
as Christmas lights shimmer

and takes my hand
to go outside and

get a Budweiser from the deli

she knows the little things to do
which stop the eroding of the soul

when the earth opens
and gravity laughs