August

 

I hear a man’s watch beeping
in the apartment building across the street,
like they hear the baby,
me crying,
my life

meaning:

this obligation will not leave

it is windy, late summer,
the curtains pressed in the window,
a wasp bumping the screen

we did not fall from the 23rd floor,
I have a stack of books unread, a sink
of dishes, and the dog is shedding

there will be more todays
tomorrow

like thirst in a speck of boat,
the middle of the ocean,
undrinkable

no amount of time will be enough
of you