Stephanie Rogers
Water splashing
up from the sink, curtain
in the window turning, wind
carrying the air
into my lungs, throngs
of ants hoarding crumbs
near the tub, grout
losing its luster
like a rain gutter, small
talk wearing off
in the ether, leather
jacket eating my skin, train
waking up in the nighttime,
calendar of owls
roaming the hillside, whisper
of a droplet on the grass blade,
string on the doorknob
to knock the tooth
out, deep end
of the summer house
pool, breeze on
the highway cop car sirens,
unspooling of the hand-
sewn blanket, split
skin of the upper lip chapped
off, quiet clink
of the mini-tank earrings
on the dresser, dry cleaner
who returned my coat, little red
heart on the hanger.