The Early Ones
Black night turns dark blue, a wedge of lighter blue, dim gray. Outposts on the beach become aware of each other: narrow stones aligned to the east, grouped around a driftwood stick sixteen inches high. In an hour— sheltered by grass, overhanging edge of the continent— they will cast long thin shadows; they will be first, brave against the day.
For an anonymous sculptor,
Crescent Beach, Maine
Warm Sake
Warm sake, sashimi maguro, blood red slices on a wooden block, light green chicory, pickled ginger. Outside: harbor ice rocking in the tide, translucent, thin dark edges swirling in black water.
Shiki
Portland
Leaving Finn
Las Cruces at dusk, necklace on the desert. Back in Tucson, Finn recovering from surgery, sweat on his nose, trying to smile, whispering, "Have a good trip, Dad."
Late Breakfast
Red nails, gold cigarette, young pampered mouth, hair drawn back, a sense of having reached her limits, a perfect twenty-two. There was a moment when she chose all this.