This came out today in the Portable Boog Reader. I read it to her while she took it easy in bed; she liked it a lot. So, that's nice.
I sent in my final book edits today to Milkweed Editions for Sharks in the Rivers and I'm getting very excited for the book. But this poem is in a whole different book. (The fourth, and yet to be determined amorphous book of strays.)
It's raining, and cold. I've worn my slippers all day. Though I did change into jeans around 5pm when the nurse left. I don't miss New York right now, but I do miss my dear ones.
The fire is lit. The fire is lit. The fire is lit. (Now, I must stare at it.)