Preview for Thursday's reading

Here's a new one before I head back to work, it'll be read tomorrow at It's A Grind.

On the Table, Under All The Mail

When I have disappeared

from every corner

of this room, and fill

another nook in Anchorage,

there will be a car sent

with a driver and champagne

and keys to an apartment

in Bethel.

If you can part

with this room,

it’s scent and scattered mice,

you’ll have enough for gas

and truck stop food.

Please don’t mind the quiet,

the driver is a mute,

and not one much for conversation.

I hope the cold

is not too much, the people

not too strange

and that you make a friend

or two, to pare the days

down, slowly and serene.

I’m sorry if the futon

gathered dust.

I wish that you could

see the sun go down

here, near the glaciers

and slip your hand

to shiver between mine.

But we are many miles

apart, and living

in the winter,

please forgive

me showing you

the snow.