a bluebottle 

sawing the afternoon 

in two 

 so much depends on the delivery man

 my dear poet

the reader paints a picture

to show you

 every child’s

intense stare is trying

to figure you out

 there’s a spider

on the door jamb

and he’s awful tiny

 freckles

of her summer smile

my equinox

 groyned

in a social stream of posts

a thought stuck

 salt marsh

one minute an ocean

the next a prairie 

 does an aborted embryo have a near life experience 

 enter two children 

dressed as a cow

giggling

 it’s time to

• surely not -

now i’ve forgotten

 far away 

in the mist 

                            goal!!