September 2

TUESDAY 3

On the pharmacy
counter, the drugs laid out tell
the story of my life.

WEDNESDAY 4

Someone passing calls
me something that sounds like Love,
unsolicited.

THURSDAY 5

No one’s idea
of Paradise, this pointless
wasteful building site.

FRIDAY 6

Behind impasto
cloud, the half-moon, and Venus,
a point in the dark.

SATURDAY 7

Blackboards with white chalk
greetings to this city, one
asking, ‘All right, Bab?’

SUNDAY 8

Reflected in a
window, a glass of water
flickers, silvery.

MONDAY 9

A bird shrieks beyond
the playing field, another
chatters in the hedge.