Things I Left in the Driveway, Because ICouldn’t Pack Them Into Boxesart supplies, applications, bicycle helmet, the barn, burnt bacon,closed windows, the cat that lives on the corner, too muchcoffee, catcalls, the chainsmoking neighbor, coupons,dress shoes, the neighbor’s son’s drum set, desks with initialsetched into them, emails, eggshells, forgetting, frenchfries that are too well-done, farmer’s markets, frost that chokes thegrass, gold and blue, graduation gown hemmed at home, getting lost,hailstorms, housekeys, jugs of milk, karaoke on the weekends,misery, money, the morning paper, new kids, nicknames, neverknowing which song to play from the jukebox, old love letters, oddjobs, open windows, police patrols, parking tickets, riding the trainwith your face pressed against the glass, questions, rainstorms, rabbitsthat won’t quit making love out front, ruined hair, sandaled feet,sparklers, stars, thrift stores, tire treads in the mud, tv dinners, umbrellasthat live in our closets, unopened presents, the sign that sayswelcome to the central valley, wearing your cousin’s used vintage,where do you work, anxiety, windshield with a small crack in it, abreeze where you once were.Kristen Chastain
Emergencewe stand on the shores of Babylontoo afraid to speakfor fear of corrupting the momentwe are unprepared and uncomfortablelike it is our first time,like nothing could prepare us for this feelingeyes shattered like glassdreams replaced and warped into pleaswe sit confused in our dark cornersand ponder at permanence—we mongrels as plague doctors in the quagmireand the disciples of doom,watching a conjunction of wasps fly door to doorKyle Van Lant