ant5

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taking books

off the chair

I sit in the book room

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the fly

really likes

your stray hair

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on its side

the salt shaker

emits a grain

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chaff from your hair

flickers to

the ground

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damp Sunday

we hide from time

in the shed

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3am

your foot starts

rummaging around

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dove colored clouds

tearing on

the wooden fences

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late summer

weeds in the rock pile

still green

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the fly

on my eyebrow

I feel his limbs

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deep beneath the hay

a phone book

now solid

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