you came home with your pockets full of denmark. silver bracelets and bright feather earrings that tickle your neck. strange white rocks that remind you of the beach — how the air was warm but the water was way too cold. every time you call me I hold my breath. belize. madagascar. barcelona. I open the door on this ohio backyard. it rained last night; now everything smells like earthworms. spring is finally here. life in the budding tree chitters and squawks. somewhere a hawk screams and my little dog wants back inside. when I hear the phone ring, I wait — just a minute. I know where you’re going, this time.
big leaves moon –
she books a flight