the wet cardboard blessing of fresh rain
the chainlink fence that brings back
the dogs who came to you

the corner stilts
the house
the books akin to hagiography

the block’s glass doors swing out staggered

the mist is green & muted
reinforcing the humidity

the drunken stumble for exposure to

the half-built flower bed
the tabletop sparked in party lights
the prison-abolitionists
warming up from every angle

the neighbor in the sundress asks for another drink

the friends
the experiments with body hair
the wet air licked with embers from

the fire keeps a head count throws us
the blankets