L comes over & we walk turns around the block—
this is what we’re allowed.

A cardinal appearing, flash of red—
(something she says? How beautiful?)—

& this is what beauty is for—
a trap to make us stay.

We leave a mess, don’t we.

I repeat her words & it feels
almost like fluency, like belief, almost,

almost like love. We’re still alive
here. We live on the ground.

On the ground, mostly.

Read on . . .

By Land,” a poem by Tyree Daye