|July 2006/Volume Seven/Issue Two|
|A Thursday for Everything
He comets the
gravity of steel-toed boots and
swims home through commerce to
see her predate the clocks and hug him
like sounding horns around a dulcimer.
He collects and she is to gather him onto
a couch and blanket ten o’clock, loan him
all moments his, from her version of him,
all him, the
limp capibara hanging from her teeth.
|RETURN TO JULY 2006|