17

Run it through a filter
to clarify your thoughts

Dark, light, midtone
a muddle we call a garage sale

We slip shadows to each other
across the mismatched table settings

A group of misgivings and sentiments
arrive, hang their jackets on the stool seats

& order double everythings
while you look between the rough-hewn rafters

& your hands, the rough-hewn rafters
& your hands, as though

you’d just put something down
but couldn’t remember what

& the spring light & trilling
of the peepers saturate the area

at the open double door