June 1, 2010

daughter of a fisherman

I remember two things

November late afternoon sunlight
exclamatory sparkles of dust
upon lashes a fence to blue eyes
the dull scent of cat litter and coffee grinds
pacing a guttural song against the glued down tiles
counting pills from green tubes
white miniature cupcake molds, catch,
then dispose down toothless gaps
a sacrament with red ink confessing

walking and watching
a curious peer around corner
lingering waiting strangers in my home
why you here

matthew wedlock (Taunton, MA, 1984)