Poetry | Journal

Sometimes I clench my jaw at night

grind my teeth

unconscious to the swimmers and poachers, the entitled or deeply mislead

let my body take the fall

rest

Sometimes the frogs don’t sing at night

police sirens wail

bodies hit pavement the way chicken breasts smack cutting boards

season with pepper to taste

mourn

Sometimes I wander the streets at night

hug street lamps

they cut down 49 trees outside my office this spring, all healthy

window watch with impuissant unease

hope