52/ last sonnet

In the final stages of our move
we are in my backyard by a mushroom
outside the trailer that holds all my things
in possession of other living things.

It is chilly outside and the leaves are changing.
Inside my mother is firing the kiln
and it is warm. We are walking back and forth,
inside to out. Later,

In a Honda we move on the Hutch
back to Brooklyn. All the way to our
apartment and back again through the
night with rain. It is hard to see the lines on the road.

Tomorrow morning we'll take the train
back and our lives will be there.
-Hannah

After one year,
Life has started to recalibrate itself
All that had been shaken up
Is starting to settle

Your traces faded quickly
When you left
Small things: your bike, your broken chin, your ratty hair, the sound of your feet
Remained present even when we moved

From time to time it was fun
To imagine you as an old man
To imagine how you lived your life
For one whole year, I never once saw your room

How did you feel
How could you have felt
-KM

51

One more week!

At the end of the day
There is a car
Driving past lights
We all look ahead

Above the water
Everything rushes by
Sounds change and interrupt
There's always interference

Changes in the light
Refractions
The shapes and colors
Everything changes

The cold air smells damp
My ears ring as doors close
-KM

Every morning at 5:15 AM when I wake up:
wash my face, make tea, get dressed, wear contacts.
Every morning on the train a man with a tool kit
steals entry to stand near me on the platform.

In my classroom sunlight sifts through the blind
creating a pattern of stripes across the tables.
Everyday I tell myself: You can do this.
This is your classroom. Be confident.

It is hard to constantly be making corrections
and to be trying so hard. Sometimes my
anxiety takes over and my stomach feels
hallow. Remember it gets easier?

Here is to another Monday.
We're on the same team.
-Hannah

50

In 2004 we traveled to Philadelphia
to say goodbye to your friend.
Inside a temple where you could stand
up whenever you wanted.

We stayed in a house with tall stacks of papers
and a salon of religious paintings on the walls.
I caught my first cockroach in a shot glass.
I thought it was a cricket.

It was the first time I saw you play
the bass with your old friends in the
old band and Rose gave you a hard time.
And the wife was so happy because

this was all he ever wanted.
He always talked about it.
-Hannah

At what time, what place
Did it sink in;
Did it start to feel
So long

At what point did it change
You always felt so young
You always said
"I'm only twenty-five"

I wish you would have known then
How you would feel now
I wish we could have helped
Yet what's done is done

I wish I could have seen you one last time
-KM

49

As the descent begins
In a sudden sinking panic
Thoughts rush by
Too many to make amends with

The notion of not existing does not cause panic
But that sudden moment
How does it feel for it all to end
Will we know it, will we remember it?

Envisioning real body trauma
I cannot reckon what true pain feels like
I cannot envision the impact
My stomach tightens and turns

I see others thinking the same thoughts as me
With eyes tightly closed, with knuckle turning white
-KM

On a ferry across the river
we talked about trash and
I thought about when I
was a little kid.

We would miss the ferry
at Wood's Hole and go to the
bakery and the thrift shop
that smelled like everyone's closet.

The air smelled only like the ocean
and our car moved across it.
I loved how my hair went wild with
the wind. I'd look out for dogs.

On the other side we would
be there.
-Hannah

48

On autumn nights walking on broken slate sidewalks
Graceland: we planned
Our words, quiet, transformed pools of streetlight
Into Memphis skylines

Through the winter, we talked of it, we longed for it as we ran away from our house
The word took on a different meaning
No longer a place
But a feeling of strength, of sanctity

It grew almost magical
A childish way to look at the world
But I loved it
I'm not even sure where it is Tennessee
After all this time, still I've never looked at it on a map


Graceland: a roadtrip never taken

I still want you to go with me
-KM

In a dusty backyard in Queens there is a dog
named Daisey who sleeps with her head
on a rock and has glazey red eyes.
Around her people are reliving the past

in their mother's halter tops.So,
I didn't go upstate, I stayed here with
you. I ate two deviled eggs and
a hot dog made of tofu.

The whole week pressure of the 1960s
built-up in my back and I couldn't sleep
at night. I wore a brown head scarf tied
in a bow. Daisey was at everyone's feet.

-Hannah

47

There is a long green vein
Meandering just beneath thin skin
On the outside
Of my right thigh

I study its twists and turns
Wondering will it grow weaker?
Will my legs bulge under stress,
Transforming into a topographical map?

I think of mom when I was ten,
She was out in the back
On the second floor I heard her voice
Asking me to call for help

Her mountainous veins had caught a nail
She asked for a bandage, not realizing
Her shoe had already filled with blood
She was hemorhagging

No one answered when I called
I panicked, with shaking hands
I brought her an old towel
My dog licked at the puddle of blood

We piled into the car, nervous, silent
With her leg resting in the passenger seat
She backed the car out of the driveway
We didn't say a word

We picked our sister up from school,
Then we drove to the hospital
Another mother from the school followed us there
She took us to her house and gave us cookies, she didn't say much

Mom rarely ever wore shorts after that
-KM

In the past the balance
has been thrown
like a horse in a western movie,
the kind that just won't quit,

It rained like
we were at the ocean and
following day it was breezy
and cool.

It will come back
and everything
that is important will find its
own place.

Let's get going.
Let's get gone. 
-Hannah

46

A weekend of waking
next to you
to sit at the
breakfast table.

and at the beach
by many others.
In the ocean
there are big waves

Fleshy sea weeds
in your pockets.
We collect sunshine
and then go home.

One night without you
in our room.
-Hannah


3am:
My name stirs
Me from sleep
We must leave now

By 4 blood
Was drawn
Filling three capsules
Lungs tightened

An old woman
Moaned in Catonese
Over and over again
You slept for ten minutes

The sour smell of illness vs. sterility
Clung to our clothes
-KM

45

I only knew you four of
Twelve years
Found on spoiled raviolis
As wild as ever

For a week you were mine
And in the snow we walked
Searching for a reason
Missing the same people

My foot was bleeding and you
With your easy smile
Licked me clean, as happy as ever
I went to my room and cried

I dreaded the day you'd leave this place
Foolish, I missed the day, now you're gone
-KM

When we passed the great swamp,
I noticed. My dad picked us up in
a gray station wagon with socks
in the back seat.

Out the window the mountains
continue to exist and later in the
black four-door sedan Samson
makes a joke about hiking on the AT.

As a young girl I lived in open space
and now when you and I are together
in the field of purple loose strife and golden rod
I take a photograph.

For when we are back in between
the buildings in the place where you can make it. 
-Hannah

44

no dice

43

For one week
It was hard to sleep
Dreams of situations
Full of anxiety

I missed you
The way your stomach
Collapses in deep exhales
And then you're asleep

The looming fear
I knew it was coming
(I hate to say)
I felt some relief

It happened too quickly
It's over too soon
-KM

I lost my time and now it
is in the waves and wind by
the edge of the ocean in the
northeast. I will think of it often.

Within a few weeks in a new
apartment with a new job,
I will keep your arms around me
and grow rosemary and basil.

In other moments I think
about walking in the woods
and hearing the sigh of my
own breathe against a backdrop

of crinkling leaves, rushing water
and deer on skinny legs.
-Hannah

42

How strange it must feel
To be forty-eight
The weight of days mark the body
Signs of time spent

Reunions must be unsettling
And mirrors alarming
They're reminders of this body
Holding thoughts, repeating daily motions

Seeing old friends
What do they think?
How have we changed?
Are memories the only link?

So many ways to spend a life
Sometimes its easy to forget to look up
-Kim

Children who are called scholars
sit in desks and listen to the teacher
who explains her whole name is
her identity and it is important.

On the way to the building
the street smells like many-day
old fish and their are iron shields
over the shops.

Inside the building, the walls
are green and yellow. From
my small seat the
evaluated train rattles.

Maybe I will come back
here.
-Hannah

41

The roadsides
are full of chicory with little
purple flowers all in a line.
In 1992, it was only wild asters

and black-eyed susans calling
to daisy cousins on
the New Jersey Turnpike.
My parents drove with the windows

rolled down in their 1978 Dodge
and sections of sentences whisked
past the windows while Sam and I
argued under a pastel bunny blanket.

This year the windows are sealed shut
and I wonder if the chicory is whispering?

-Hannah

 

 At 4:45am on the FDR Drive
The East River reflects so softly
The gentle colors of the sky
In its slow awakening

The half-asleep colors
Weak from rest
Grow stronger
Edges become sharp again

The silhouette of a face
Focused on a point ahead
Candid expression
The highway lines pass so quickly

As the light grows
Shadows dissolve

-KM 

40

Littleleaf linden is on street corners
in Brooklyn with little flowers. In early summer
they bloom, in fall they give a fruit the size
of a peppercorn that falls in between fingers.

On days when littleleaf is holding moister,
I am holding anxiety in the pits of my arms
and in the spaces between my ribs. The young
leafs can be eaten in a vegetable salad.

I feel silly because I am trying to shake it
before in settles so stretch my body and
think about linden wood in honeycomb frames,
in beehives, busy in the summer.

Today it was 97 degrees.
The humidity was high.
-Hannah

Walking up the street
Never noticing the slight incline
Until tired legs
Carried me step by step to my door

The narrow staircase
Never seemed so steep and so tall
Until tired feet
Grew heavy beneath my body's weight

The night's heat seeps into my pillow
It did not seem so thick
Until tired eyes
Closed slowly in the thick tides of air

The smooth textures of arms and legs and sheets
Touched by tired hands
-KM

39

Amanda and Evan Move to Colorado

Penn Station is a nightmare,
but I hear your voice in my ear.
It rains big in the Meadowlands and
when we get off too early you pick us up.

Immediately there are introductions and laughter.
Suddenly there is a dog on my lap
and tacos I can't eat. There are boxes to move
to the garage. We mix rum with coke.

I lose some minutes later in the night
when we walk the dogs down the street.
The walls are yellow so we paint them
white with wide strokes.

There are gaps of time in which
I am sitting or walking.
Sometimes I'm thinking about
how we became friends.

On Sunday parents and brothers arrive
carrying cold cuts and mayonnaise made with
olive oil. You and I pack up the kitchen,
move couches and make jokes.

On Sunday we go home. But the two of you
in three cars and a moving van are moving to make a life in Colorado.
-Hannah

Shadows cast sideways
Flatten buildings into backdrops
A movie set
Relating life to a created experience

How many times have we based
Our real experiences
Compare like or as
Something seen on a screen

Looking through a monitor at
The scene right in front of me
Its clearer when its framed
It is clearer when planned

Behind the lens of a camera
All hours of the day revolve 
-KM

38

Black garbage bags stacked in slippery stacks
in the corners of the room and on shelves.
Two small windows open wide without curtains.
It gets very sunny in the evening.

Throughout the walls, in wood and cloth,
that is where they live. They live and I leave
with bags and a box of plants on the subway.
Back and forth for many days so my legs hurt.

Using the dryer and looking closely
before finding room on shelves
that already have order.
My second home becomes my first.

Everyday I wake up with you.
I am happy I am here.
-Hannah

Small changes
No more than that
Cover what belongs
Cloudy erasure

Water and hair
Metal and plastic
Back and forth motion
Blurring edges

Pages of paper
Piled high
Thrown to the side
No longer to be used

A useless task
Can bring so much pleasure
-KM

37

Where the earth drops down
Escaping the sky, diving toward the sea
So sharply down to the waves
There I'll be

Where the fog obscures the land
A mist so blue and heavy
Horns cry out, bouncing between clouds
There I'll be

Where the wind smells warm and sweet
Tiny flies buzz about, busying themselves
And scrubby weeds reach up toward ankles
There I'll be

Out as far as the bluff will support
Listening to rocks roll out to sea
-KM

Last night when I was asleep
for hours I think I thought about
swans looking like white dots
on a big lake with murky water.

Their long thin necks
pulled by an invisible rope
to the rocky bottom
at the end of the lake.

As their necks go down
their tail feathers rotate
and water beads on the edges
and falls back to the source.

Everything gets back to
the beginning.
-Hannah

36

I
saw
two
rabbits

one
looked
at
my eyes

the
other
hopped
away

bye bye
bunny
-Hannah

 On the last day of May
The air was warm, the sun fell
Golden through the trees
Children stayed up late playing

Walking with backs toward the sunset
Parrots dipped back and forth
Green wings glimpsed between generators
Constantly working, building nests

Weaving up and down the streets
Thinking how many days we've spent
And all the endless ways to spend a day
I am by your side, I am where I want to be

I am by your side
I am ready
-KM

35

At 6:41pm the landscape changes
as scrub pines rise from sandy soil
and my elbow leans on tomatoes
encased in plastic between you and me.

We arrive in daylight while my right eye
is red and the walls are white.
In the morning and through the night
the ocean crashes through fog.

So I think about little cat feet
and drink tea in the morning.
Slowly my voice rises
to the usual volume.

By the lake a little bird protects
from a wide-winged hawk.
-Hannah



The fog was so thick over the ocean
Casting a heavy shadow beyond white boats
Sharp edges of water and sky dissolved
Melting blurrily into endless grey

"Undermined bluff: keep back 25 feet"
Clay earth plunges down to the tumbling sea
Water meets so violently with the earth
Ocean's wide spray catching gleams of sunlight

Stacked rocks down below lined the dirty coast
Rust, pink, white, grey mix; they're ever-changing
Bones and shells of lifeless, displaced creatures
Roll with rounded rocks in the retreating tide

Salt left behind on stones sting shoeless feet
Waves slipped between rocks on their way back to sea
-KM

34

Left with a water fall
rushing in my ears.
A swarm of bees
between my eyes.

On the train standing
with people, feel a faint
storm in my stomach.
Outside sit on sidewalk.

In school, watch kids
and say no words.
Glands like tree trunks
swallow sorrily.

Two days of antibiotics
and it all goes away.
-Hannah

Thirteen ways of looking at:

A mother and son dressed in white

From left to right, every hand occupied

Unseen leaves shiver, casting shadows

Beauty and plainness in sharp contrast

Time imprinted more heavily on some faces

Age weighed down some of the bodies

But all move with intentions to take care

Two young boys close in age being fed

A day neither recalls but knows happened

Unknown hands hold the camera

Twenty years ago, this balcony held a family

Spring or summer fills the sky with greenery

Shiny cheeks revealing the day’s heat

-KM

33

On Sunday,
you are twenty-seven
and I am next to you
smiling,

in this year of firsts
I am cataloging
loving moments in charts
and with letters.

In the evening,
I will be baking you a cake
with fruit or with chocolate.
On Sunday I will travel

upstate with a waterfall
in my ear.
-Hannah

his sonnets were taken
From poetry and writers admired
Lines he loved he re-connected
I didn't know

Landscape alters as
Buildings go up and down
Trees die
Signs rust

I can feel I'm getting older
It frightens me to think
Am I out of newness
Can a day feel endless

There are many ways to read signs
Removed from their true intention 
-KM

32

Throughout the night when
I woke up next to you

dreaming of baked cookies

and blueberry cobbler.

Cobbler toppled in my

fathers hands and

I became upset and

Samson was not there.

In the morning I woke up

next to you

I heard words about your 

dreams.

I'm happy you're

here. 

-Hannah

I hadn't looked out the window to see
It had rained, only a light drizzle
The window fogged up with condensation
Cool air filled the room as the door opened

Distant clarinets trailed up the front steps
I watched as you walked out the old screen door
In a coon-skin cap you turned and looked up
An electric smile softly glowing

Black eyes shining in the cool May night time
Looking up to meet mine behind windows
Up on the second floor, soft yellow light
Of the holy family right beside me

I know I'll always remember tonight
Distant jazz and laughter hang in the air

-KM

31

This little house has
Crooked windows
Slanted stairwells
Sagging ceilings

A stoop bathed in sunlight
stormy blue and white
Red and white leather
Diner booth for two

A garage smelling like gasoline
Six classic cars covered in canvas
Photos from sixty years ago
Framed in tarnished gold

Off the bedroom is a tiny porch
Too old and weathered to use
-KM

a week in panic:
little red spots
on my arms
and legs

worry as a
constellation:
my back in
red blotches

one trip to
the e.r. and
a small tube
hydrocortisone

still don't know
what it is
-Hannah

30

The rivers

are low. The rain has not

come since snow existed.

In the city

hidden from the sky

forgetful of the river

under the clouds

far from the shore

rain finally comes down.

Upstate it means more

and fills ponds, lakes and rivers

while people watch.
-Hannah

Headlights blur
Into white streaks
Foggy windows
Softening their cut
Through the dark air
Disguising our vision
Our movement
Its trajectory feels isolated
Distant from those around
From those so close
The violence of rain colliding against
These paths of travel
Peaceful when seen as
Drips calmly running down glass
-KM

29

In New York City when it

was both hot and humid,

In the crumbled corner of

Lexon Hill Hospital.

Born with blood

incompatibility and jaundice.

In my extra week in the

yellow hospital I cried.

My mother made the bed

beside the curtains.

In Hoboken under the sheets,

a scrap of a blanket.

Slept with each night

at age thirty-four.
-Hannah

How many times have been spent together
Walking up toward Columbus Circle
I recall stopping, you wanted to get
Vanilla frozen yogurt with peanuts

Passing FA0 Schwarz you licked the cone
He took a big bite without asking you
Talking closely, quietly together
No need to say you were truly happy

At the bottom of Central Park gather
Tourists and horses with their carriages
Flashes as photographs capture the time
All in black, quietly you'll always stand

In my memory of this far-gone day
There's really no reason to remember
-KM

28

Open windows letting in a breeze
Carrying the sweet smell of the sun's warmth
Only present in the full bloom of spring
Exhilarating

The scent of hyacinths so attached to
Airy dresses with sheer flower fabric waving about the knees
The dogwood tree's flowers above
Standing on toes in its shade to get a closer look

Growing feet sweating in nude colored stockings
Sliding inside of new glossy leather shoes
The stark contrast of fresh dirt on white shoes
Stepping from grass onto hard concrete

The parking lot so filled with cars
Mirrors reflecting the endless sky
-KM

Before we had a dog
my mother would
line jelly beans
inches apart

to the kitchen.
Chocolate
and marshmallows
before breakfast.

Outside
my young brother
placed a blue egg
in his mouth

and bit down
and cried.
-Hannah

27

when the house came together in
four parts. the stairs met on
the landing. it was 1992
and i was five years-old.

all the walls were white.
there was a small space
between the couches and the wall
with one painting.

by 1998 everything changed
the walls stayed standing.
-Hannah



In one year's time, one person's absence has
Surfaced up years of suppressed opinions
Bad blood swallowed in order to keep peace
Is still bad blood, it doesn't go away

So busy pointing critical fingers
Defensiveness fades into bitterness
And then there is rewriting history
"Where were you?" "How could you?" "Why didn't you?"

After one year it isn't possible
To come all together in her memory
Pride is so destructive, it makes us blind
Volatile words further divide

Forgetting how much we need each other
Not even sure how we got to this point
-KM

26

Every year my mother and father
would plant bulbs
in the rotting air of fall
on edge with the pachysandra.

Today the yellow flowers
reveal a topographical map of
our settlement as the
pachysandra spreads.

It is coming towards the house.
My father wants to put
an end to planting.
The deer do not eat daffodils.

My mother plants them in the chilled ground, regardless,
marking our time like lines on a wall.
-Hannah



Day upon day
adds up to years
which then add up
to make a life

Some days are filled
with more than we
need, sometimes good
other times bad

This past Sunday
adjustments were
made, plans altered
only to wait

another day
still no answer
-KM

25

In 1965 my mother was fourteen

and her mother was taking

independent study with a young professor

at Goddard:

John Keats

Marshall McLuhan

Quantum Physics

Middle Ages

On a Friday night at his house

he steamed an entire cauliflower

covered it in melted yellow cheddar cheese.

Played the songs of Leonard Cohen.

After clearing the table he kissed

my mother in the hall.

-Hannah

Grandparents

Days spent indoors
Moving from room to room
The excitement all gone
Feeling buried alive

Relinquish passion to weariness
The small things add up
Little by little they stacked up high
Slowly deciding to check yourself in

Extreme measures don't count for much
Involuntary motions cannot be forced
A machine-produced inhalation is not a breath
How selfish it was to make you stay

There really is no reason to keep going
If you do not want to

-KM

24

For Lily

As a baby, Lily was soft and small
Cruelly tortured from the inside out
Revealed only when mites broke through the skin's wall
So gentle, so small, calm despite the pain

Poked and prodded, poor Lily had no peace
These wounds refreshed to prolong Lily's life
Cuts were opened and reopened for weeks
Fighting an invisible enemy

Later cut to pieces through surgery
Lily was so young, had to fight so much
Only familiar with illness, instinct
Rules (life with pain is better than no life)

With time, Lily did grow strong and healthy
Then allergies arose: so long Lily!
-KM

When I was young we
lived in the trailer on the end
of old branch road with
plastic pink flamingos

my mother would put me in a
styrofoam cooler
with the bunnies and they would
cross over my body.

Later, as a teenager I had a
black rabbit with soft ears that
fell around his eyes.
He would nibble my wet hair.

My second shadow, making a halo
in small brown poop around my feet.
-Hannah

23

Last year,

the snow was up to my knees

covered in glassy ice

so my shins would hurt when walking.

This year there was winter for one week

bitter cold and snow that didn’t stay.

In 1995, snow covered my whole body

and we traveled to school through a white tunnel.

We were warned not to hide

in the dirty snow at the end of roads.

The snow plow would not be forgiving

on our young plaster bones.

Every year, bulbs would multiply,

cropped up in yellowed grass and acidic leaves.

-Hannah

Turn water on before undressing
Allowing time for it to heat up
Inspecting for signs of age
While the toothbrush makes its rounds

Now step into the water
Just too hot to be comfortable
Every few minutes step out of its drizzle
To give the skin a rest

The palm of the hand cradles soap
Its like liquid pearls, closer in appearance
To the creature that produces the shiny globe
With eyes closed dig fingers into hair

Towel dangles from its hook, air drying
The smell of soap lingers in its fibers

-KM

22

Saturday night in cars, wally wally, under dim lights
In new places slowly slip back into these old patterns
Face to face we remain, eyes heavy with strain under dim lights
Crawl up on the couch, trying to separate word from word

Five hours of paint, perfume, and fabric
All day spent indoors, try and try, think ahead, start planning
In the corner underneath dim lights feel sixteen again
Time moves so quickly and so do we but some places freeze

On couches, add up the years spent staring ahead, blinking
When do the days lose their meaning, when do we stop caring
How much trying is there until we grow tired of it
Is it a steady decline, a slowing of breathing

Is it a rest or is it a breaking down of will?
Isn't it true that life can (could/will) be beautiful?
-KM

In 1989, my parents purchase a gray van.
Second-hand it sits in our unpaved driveway
with a brown strip along its side.
There are two doors in the front.

Only one door that slides,
it makes a whoosh noise.
Once it took my finger from me
for a few exhilarating seconds.

And in the backseat at age four
I would watch my legs spread out.
Puzzled that they
could become a cushion around me.

In 1996, the fabric falls away from the ceiling
making erasable constellations.
-Hannah

21

in 21 days 100ft from seashore

there will be no:

electricity

running water

telephone

candles

there will be:

time for long days

drawing

letters

trips to town

swimming

time to

devote

-Hannah

behind two doors side by side
play once, then repeat as necessary
the initial work is just a scratch
a framework meant to guide

three people, five tracks
three days in the same room
cans stacked tall
neighbors come by to complain

nervously listening in the next room
disappointed over time
worried about how the future will unfold
smiles kindly with some sadness beneath it

try again until its just right
steadily the beat plays on
-KM

20

outside the trees are budding

and bulbs have risen

snow bells hang down

as daffodils look up

now, it is cold as it

should be in February

making it hard to breathe

and walk into the wind

but here

at the end of the day

in yellow light

I'm glad to be

soon trees will leaf out

neon greens

-Hannah

Seventy years from now we will not be
Over-drinking, nor staying up too late,
Waiting for something to happen, we shall
Wake up early, with a goal in our minds
Something we can look forward to

Basements filled with artificial heat and
Artificial light shining down
We never know what time to call it quits
We never quite know when to say goodnight
After a day like today, world's a snowglobe

Hold hands down the street, arm in arm in arm
Let's not face the anger, let's be happy
-KM

19

from the other side of the apartment

a scream in the kitchen

with a small heart, that hums

with one ear smaller than the other

half the body, sealed

tail in the wispy end of the letter Y

one leg stretched out

then the oil pours down

a slick struggle and many minutes

has found freedom with plastic sides

in the cold night under yellow lamps

eager to get out

then paralyzed in open space

in the middle, carried on a leaf, left to rest

-Hannah

Up so high, no center of gravity
The skeleton has four points touching earth
Metal bars keep contents captive
Despite attempts, balance cannot be found

Three times four is twelve plus four is sixteen
Lined up one two three, the fourth on its side
One thin cotton cord to stetch around, pinch, pull taut
Transported behind doors, kept in darkness

Unsteady yet they never fell over
Such a small space to pace about
Move less, quiet down, stand tall
Finally the gate is drawn open

Calmly returned, with few pieces missing
No one even even missed them

-KM

18

Once this week:
See friends after a long stretch
A stranger followed me
The blare of four firetrucks didn't wake me

Twice this week:
Walked long distances for lack of money
Fell asleep with the light on
Had to be very quiet

Three times this week:
Overslept by 20 minutes
Drank a beer
The blue light on dark curtains

Every day hand in hand and head to cheek
Not second-guessing, deep exhale, sleep

-KM

over the week, passed quickly

while the weekend passed slowly

and i dreamed of a big room

in a big house with stairs and windows

i woke up on the seventh day

next to you and i didn't feel tired.

i cooked dinner for a family

for two nights, we sat around a white table.

over the week my thoughts scattered

and i reminded myself:

don't worry, clear your mind

and spent time with my art and my friends

i walked around and then to

all the important parts of my life.

-Hannah

17

Living a life of productivity
Making plans, always looking forward
Spending every moment efficiently
Passion and persistence driving pursuits

Living day to day, floating aimlessly
Never straying far from the familiar
No ambition, no focus, no progress
Wasted minutes, wasted days, wasted years

The balance in between these two extremes
Staying within walls or knocking them down
Being on, on, on or let life lead you
Sometimes it is good to give up control

Every day passes regardless of you
A life spent trying, a life spent in bed
Just records of time.

-KM

The way hair drys in the wind

as if there is nothing but cold

and in two months the earth will

start to heat up

first asparagus will rise but

i won't see it

then the frogs will come out

but i won't hear them

in the river the ice will break

and flow down stream

past the long thin tall rocks

to the big drop off

but for now body condenses

and it's hard to breathe.

-Hannah

16

my grandfather was both tall and strict

he did not alter his habits to young children

dinners of asparagus and boiled eggs

but sometimes mussels or lobsters or little steamer clams

in the mornings baileys with jam

and pulling up rocks from the wall

to look for newts or in the field in between the mountains

to catch butterflies and grasshoppers with wings

in the town over the bridge of flowers

my mother would stop to tell us about some flower

or the reason for some herb but we would want to hurry to

climb down the stairs and jump

the whole family would be down there with the dam for the river

and in between water and smoothly rounded rocks
-Hannah

in corridors neatly-spaced seats stand close
fluorescent lights overhead flickering
stale air cycles through large overhead vents

leafing through pages, words begin to blur
rows of faces, each with eyes (none I know)
bags tucked under seats, idle hands fidget
heads tilt up, impatient to move along

inclined to panic, inclined with closed eyes
the pain of pressure, engines drown out sounds
drifting through thoughts, hours pass by slowly
so many paths meet to share in waiting

orange and white flicker miles away
lights grow smaller as the world grows bigger
-KM

15

it's nice to wake up to you missing me
it's good to take a walk in the morning
and it feels nice when it's warm in winter
so my coat hangs off my arms and open

it's important to take care of yourself
that means eating good foods
and folding clean laundry for shelves
clearing sides and collecting dust

it feels good to have people
to count on
to sit in the same rooms
or to drink cups of water

to tell words
in the first week of the new year
-Hannah

I inherited traits from my mother:
Nervous laughs, nail-biting, story-telling
Hair turning grey at a premature age
A need for everything to be perfect

Alone I sit, looking out my window
The moon rises as the sun sinks beneath buildings
In three minutes it makes its full ascent
Heavy and full, sitting low in the sky

Meeting new people, missing those back home
Still there's sweetness in returning to places
Visited in the past (so different then)
Time sneaks by and suddenly years have past

20 years have past since first visiting
I thought so much would have happened by now
-KM

14

It all began in January

very drunk on the sidewalk

beer hidden in the snow

took three photos (12AM)

April, soak peas, asparagus

and hauled out old dressers

in the front yard crushing

phlox to raise the beds

Other months: June

a commitment, a compromise

get freckles, get older, July

September, decide to stay.

last night with small plastic cups

and walking home with you (2012)

-Hannah

One year ago waking to tall ceilings
Windows filled with that big blue empty sky
From the floor, stretching shoulder to shoulder
Quiet walk down essex street

The year before snow covered the ground
From across the path watching
You laid on your back, staring at the sky
Singing

Echoing through buildings
Walking closely to keep warm
Into rooms under lights
Hold each other tight

The steam whistles billow white
Playing slightly out of tune

-KM