[It's stringy out here]
from "The Split"
It's stringy out here
in the stratosphere.
The sad night ticks like a homemade bomb.
I dream each night (in Cancerqueen, so many nights!) about the
churning streets, the way each person passing, in her, his surly,
individuated shoes, I didn't know but could have known.
This seeming simpler now than then.
Copyright © 2012 by Susan Wheeler
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission