These Days As We Wipe Packages With Bleach
Last night's dream—no, let's start with the dull sheen
on this teak coffee table. In the dream, my sister
and I play this game—if you cut yourself
on a sheet of tin foil, you shimmer, can't breathe.
We fold these rifts of mercy from the center,
tuck the sun and wind into syllables, leave
certain sheaves at four corners for the poor
to glean, so we will not sit shiva, not die.
Richard Widerkehr's work has appeared at Muse Pie Press, Writer's Almanac, Verse Daily, and others. He earned his M.A. from Columbia University and won two Hopwood first prizes for poetry at the University of Michigan. His latest book is In The Presence Of Absence (MoonPath Press). He has three chapbooks and a novel, Sedimental Journey (Tarragon Books). His new book, At The Grace Cafe, is forthcoming from Main Street Rag.