windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

the upright

seven hundred bucks a decade and a half ago.
three times in the pawnshop since.
i loan it out. it sings for better hands
than mine. a good investment.

not deep

I think i should. if i were true, that’s what
i’d do. i want to be that one
who does. who does it ’cause it’s just the thing
to do. who does it beautifully

ears

i asked him if he wanted to pick the lullabies
or if dadú should pick. he said,
“you pick.” i fell asleep before he did.
our roles are interchangeable.

the weigh

cool spring night. another failure
to attain set goals.
not grasping, not avoiding, who
prepares for sleep?

misgivings

i rarely go for night walks anymore
and when i do i hurry home
and bolt the door. tonight, i heard a rustle-
fresh vegetables from our neighbor