American Trilogy

I.
Wry smile under the weight
of a flatland blanket & I’m still
wondering. The voicemails
I never deleted, punctuated
questions, an invitation.

II.
Pretending to sit on a bench,
everything that stands for 
in our Puritan context. Cold
breath at war with the bonfire
& no one to see the show.

III. 
These impassable mountains. How
it’s possible for sadness to feel,
the physical symptoms of it
as the cold arrows pierce you.
Quivers full of poems & poems.