No matter what swells over the seawalls of your love and buries you, the plumbing still crumbles, the car still runs dry. At night I chew bits of skin from my feet, catch mice with cracker crumbs in the sink. We still watch the moonrise together, an atomic tangerine. Looters roam the streets. We sit with shotguns across our knees. Cradle them like babies. Asheville Poetry Journal December 2017
Poems by Judy Kaber