with an ivory handle
and so sharp

you cut like a knife
through butter

your tongue

shaving off minutes
from my life

almost
two at a time

whit howland © 2021

Will I remember this
day

ten years from
now

this lazy afternoon
where I slept late

because I was up
the night before

so much of my life
was spent

pushing the sun up
then shutting my eyes

to rise just in time
to see it bleed out

over the horizon

whit howland © 2021

as if every day
is a blood orange sunrise

sometimes we muddy the waters
just to see the silt finally settle

whit howland © 2021

Now
a faded pair
of blue jeans

that served us well
as shadows set in
and pretty soon

there'll be nothing to see
and not much to tell
other than what we can glean

by the cold light
of a glinting sharp
silvery moon

whit howland © 2021

Another lunatic trip to
the hospital.
Nine days, this
go around.
For the first two
days, I just pulled
the covers over my
head and pretended I
was back in the womb.
It was warm and safe.
As much as I
wanted to stay,
I knew it was time to
be reborn into this
strange world of
sick streets, and
broken dreams.

balding head
crows feet
wisdom lines

this life my life
is light years away
as I sit on the edge of the boat

with feet on the dock
staring at it like Mars
Jupiter or maybe the moon

my mom my grandmother
and grandfather
still in tow

whit howland © 2021