A collection of dream images, overheard phrases,
or the awakenings of poems
Dead landlord evicts dead tenant
In matters of death, all talk is small
Who fingered the earth, left godly imprints of ridges and fissures?
Seething in the Queer Anne house
In the cabinet where we store Tupperware sits a package of sliced cheese.
When a frosting recipe specifies eggs, she drops them whole on top of the baked cake,
She sets an aluminum pot in the microwave and turns it on.
In the mail, she receives appeals for money and worries about how to pay them.
She tells me it’s time for me to go home.
She asks me when I can drive her to her home.
She knows who I am, even though she doesn’t know my age, my birthday or how many siblings I have. But she says she loves me.
JL Kato is a retired newspaper copy editor. His poetry collection, Shadows Set in Concrete, was selected as a Best Book of Indiana in 2011. A longtime ambassador of the literary arts, he was chosen as 2022 Literary Champion by the Indiana Authors Awards.
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