by kvennarad

“Stuff begun in ignorance lasts

as long as a charcoal hammer,”

she says, poet as she is, “and so

I’m nothing but a tourist on your

grief.” There was a message in

the sky, a taste on the wind, that


anyone could read but it stayed

a cypher. Observe how the dog

trots and interpret that in dance.

Yesterday we released balloons

for someone’s birthday; our calm

is barbaric, as banal as ice-cream.


jupiter©Marie Marshall