Michael Dylan Welch

toll booth lit for Christmas — from my hand to hers warm change

night jog— sparks from a train rounding a turn

a firefly’s glow against her palm passed to mine

only so far onto the beach tracks of a wheelchair

fox on the trail? your hand held up to my chest

late show on TV? I finish cleaning up for the cleaning lady

family reunion ? the camera timer goes off too soon

traffic stop the neon buddha tries to claim diplomatic immunity

unpacked box on the kitchen table? foreign headlines

bills due– in my dream the endless stairs

long sermon– biscuits and crayons passed along the pew

chairs overturned on dusk-lit tables– a pause in the broom

short day— the smell of wet mittens drying by the fire

clear-cut pines— concentric circles filling the pond

my blue bathrobe worn at the hook spot — New Year’s Day

breakup talk — our breath mingling in the winter air

guitar solo on the car radio— my fretting fingers

funeral procession— a classic Harley with an empty sidecar

chill in the air— leaves swirling by an election sign

yellowing maple— I feel for my bald spot