broken camera

what my shadow looks like

homesick for Gardner, MA

and railroad tracks and wintergreen smell and graveyards and twin beds

older things, fragile lungs

old things, broken teeth

November

Summer

ice floes
salt air and heavy snow, the kind that would swallow us whole
and
nights so cold they haunt and hide inside my bones
and a moon that hangs so low I think we could reach up and touch it
or maybe if I stood on your shoulders,

yawning yellow-gold