I Treat Your Swollen Ankle

  propped on a pillow on our oversized coffee table, all of our ice packs                    lost in the move, & I try to talk to you about my impending job loss, another poem rejected by a favorite magazine,...

Oregon, Columbine, October, November, December—

  I think of you, fellow teacher, and I fear what lies on the other side of the door, the window, the rain. What power lies in waiting, what anger, what brown paper bag concealing fire. I lean back in my desk chair and make myself a little smaller, blend into the...