“I didn’t love Lance anymore,” Jenni moans, “but I didn’t want him to die like that. I didn’t want him to die with all that Goosedown and Gortex sucking the air out of his lungs and not giving any back.”
More clearly? I do my best. / “Painfully”—though she might / have meant prayerfully, night / full of drams or drawn, dark rain & the rest—
Like some Sunday afternoon, my years emerge— / a car ride through the country then the city then back, / the maple trees, flax fields, rivers: a distance / but so close that memories are puffs of air on my closed eyes / and so it goes, and so I go like everyone / existing in small rooms, waiting.
On the road, my husband didn’t know / this, my last night out. / Our bungalow always open / told no secrets.
imagine if someday the problem is that we were all living for too long / hold on, let me take off my bracelets / I explore different cities and I think I hear the youngest child making noises with her mouth
You=negative 2 z-score: / the pink graphed line / a dying downward swoop. / Wasting: Can you / fit into a coat pocket? / Here the lake pounds questions / into the sand, / receding / and asking again.