Jack can’t remember
last time Shelley laughed so hard

as the wind took up the tools
from the shed line and slung them down into the yard

the straight murmuring of winter borne
how a thing is always more than the thing it is

now it’s the river you’re lookin’ for
but fail to find

when God gets mentioned
everyone’s eye is on the door

the trailer rocks all night from the force of the wind
in the dark, proximity is the only thing that matters

you put out your hands,
feel for something solid

there’s always what’s missing
and there’s always what you make of that.