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Three Poems

Micah Ballard


Gone now this evening

his scent over afternoon

brandy. Early dinner

without friend or family

walking far enough

to catch a ride back,

it’s better to keep moving

the longing no longer easy

suspicion less likely. But

we shall forget he came

here tonight & will remember,

waiting at the window

watching the wake go by.


Along alleyways

they wait

for us to be alone.

We roll deep

& dive out

with our wants.

We choose

to chase another

tone home, it is

vast & seeks also

foreign bellows.


Late winter. We trip

in & out of each other’s

morning. The sky lingers

in folds of blue then

red. Far off the streets

wind & band around

the mountains. Our eyes

are shot with smoke.

There is no more water left.

The last ferry has met

where the sun will set,

a single dove lands on

the windowsill. We pour

ourselves a glass of sherry

& lay down under what

becomes the moon.