by Nate Pritts
Cleaning today, I found a cricket in the house,
surprised by the sudden changes outside,
& I brushed him from my cupped palm
onto the porch. All night I stare at my hands,
slowly forgetting their shape, & listen
to my neighbor practice the saxophone.
I’m amazed that his mistakes sound so good.
Tiger lilies outside my window beat slow time
against the screen, six-petaled heads bobbing
burnt orange, mute tongues curling & streaked
like the sky, streaked with the fading of two stars
shooting at once. The man alone in the life raft
screams “Land!” every day, rehearsing hope
so he’ll have it right when the time comes. Soon
there’ll be sun bursting bold through windows
& an end to the brassy solo from next door,
but for now it’s just moonlight, calm,
blue, the moon shrugging, giving it all up,
settling instead of blaze for glow.

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