After her diagnosis, she devours / whodunits at Olympic speed. Although / she snubbed e-books before, at night for hours / she swipes through mysteries by the Kindle’s glow. . . .
The season wears a windless dirt road shoulder, / a crop of lilies, fields as burnished brown / as beach glass, bright beyond the stony odor / of sidewalks wet from sprinklers.
I throw salt over my left shoulder / into the eye of a stranger. For months we can’t speak / so we go to the shore and our words come / back in the mouths of laughing gulls. . . .
Here let me stand. Let me look at the fog a little, / its striations cast by Fresnel lens. In the dark an otter / I cannot see, swimming • where sea troubles the sand. . . .
From the lecture hall projector beams / a phantom glacier, filling the screen with a map of Colorado. / The colorful shading illustrates the decline in annual / snowfall.
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