i have no interest in crumbs
or crushed up berries / but
i look out the milky window, start
to miss u / thru the panels. so
i crave the little bits. like
that could be the corner of
your roof, just a rumble
up the road, just / a twist
of my body / in the rain, just a puddle
i mud through on purpose / just
listen for a second. we’ve got glass
for yellow roses on these tabletops. and
it’s been eight months since i saw u.
we are closer now than ever. u could be here
if u wanted. if I wanted
i could ask u to, or toss it up: a
drizzle on the driveway, where the first sweet thing
i say to u / is “always”, and the next
new word u’ll need is “anytime”.
Tess McRae
tmcrae2@umbc.edu
