Come out here. So I dried my hands.
The air is perfect. He lay
on his back on the path, hands
on his belly, limbs soft
as if concrete were feathers. Lie down with me.
Across the grass, our daughter
sifted sand. The pavement
gave up its heat. Above us, the blue
drew one thin cloth across its face.
Interlude
No commentsCarolyn Williams-Noren’s work was selected by E. Ethelbert Miller and Kristin Naca for a 2010 Loft Mentor Award. Her poem, “Mistakes,” received a 2009 Pushcart Prize nomination from Seems. She has poems forthcoming this summer in Slipstream, at La Fovea, and in the new magazine of gardening literature, Greenwoman. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband, two daughters, and a cat named Comma. Find her online at williams-noren.com.
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