Nine Sleeps
by Eva Mohn
The beach
a bench
a bed
an accident
a tumble.
a trip
a get up
damn it
losing a contact lens
your sister
praying
digging
fishing
sniffing
the coast
a cliff
a perch
a pickle
looking for something small lost in carpet
a subway stop
some one you recognise
a birch tree forest
a sporting event
a ditch
an elder
a trickster
a tree
a cramp
a farm
a gun
a smell
a threat
a peach
a joke
or realising it’s not a joke
a view
an arrival
a before-ness
an after-ness
a very well groomed mustache
white gravel
new slacks
a new jacket
a new pack
rain
a fresh do
a two step
a change of hugh
change of diet
a new brand
a change of pace
a slight of hand
a break up
to change it up
a chance to sprint
a need to hunt
a quiver in the lip
like they lost something
and are remiss.
we keep the stream streaming, but we have a crowd crowding the team building
so what else?
but what else?
and what else?
and what then?
and what next?
and then what?
because from here I can almost see your house.
some one asked me once why I always dance so slow and I said “huh?”