Beige building with
black mildew streaking
down the side

Shut blinds above a
kitchen sink I
know is there

A plastic bottle
of luminous dish soap

its hourglass
at half

Succulents’ small utterances

Faint gloom

You dissecting a crow
in science class
years ago

Someone with a clipboard
outside the market
asking for signatures

A cloud and a plane
pulled in opposite directions

Someone pushing me
up against a locker

cool
orange metal
at my shoulders

On the sunlit album cover
a price sticker

almost touching
the folk singer’s
pinched brow

Two chairs
at the table

sit together
proxies for us

in human time
we’re still outside of

Between each hour
and the next

are days
we take cover in
like roadside brush

I pressed
with my fingers
to “see”

A limp little forest
trying to remain
upright

Isn’t rigidity a number’s job

the blanket’s job
to be sad

The white t-shirt’s anonymity

The dusk takes with it
every detail