Coda:  Field Guide

dear Laura it is time the summer has closed

we make clay figures fly        the way the birds

close to the face     your burn     your mother

becomes a little     like a future        bling

clad in grey hoodie         I’m not asthmatic 

just sincere since we stopped collaging

around town two cities that can do without us

it’s a very fine place to live for the trees  I need

a field guide the tresses shorn reddened

signaling a goodbye to childish things    mornings

woke furious pressed together at waist   sleep

not an option     o bring a lime   if fruit

means making   of things just the best I need

a guide to that field to one bird you