contactless delivery

blame it on the sunny Saturday, so
caressed by daffodil yellow
hunting for lilac leaves, perhaps
in the dream of the moment all forgotten
it is not okay
to move toward someone, to stretch out your hand.

well, his look of reproach
as good as a wall
the box carefully set
on the sidewalk
between us.

(in the house, in the box a dress
sky-blue eyelet—
the mirror and I admired it)

unprecedented

I’ve not been the type to actually scream
over something so small
as a word
but then I’ve not been
the kind of person to dye her hair purple
on a whim
drive off shaking
my fist at the store because
they wouldn’t let me bring my own bags

it is a normalcy of strangeness
but I beg not
of discourtesy, suspicion
the repeating of these thoughts
until they take on skin
and settle in

bird, dog, cat

it happens
from time to time, a mystery
small bird in the house

junco wild-flight hurl at glass door
falling stunned; sparrow
parked on pantry, peering
black-eyed over the molding

how it spent a night in the mixing bowl
how I caught it in the curtain, heart beating
flutter in my closed hand
how the dog whined and pointed
how the cat had grown bored long since
the gift already given