by Margaret King
I've always loved hardware stores Everything in its place Every item practical, Utilitarian, For needs I hadn't even thought of His therapist often talked about Toolboxes Life skills, coping skills As if life could be faced with a visit to the hardware store As if they sell levels for minds And super glue for relationships And tape measures for invisible distances Studfinders for singles in search of love Safety goggles for the comment section I digress. For us: A crowbar to pry the lid off this interminable night And open the lid on dawn A crowbar to peel back our interminable separation And let in the light, the happy reconciliation A language to tell you how alive I was that autumn day overlooking the lake How alive it all was: Deer, dragonfly, daisy And dry wind chimes rustling the blaze leaves Breadcrumbs that still biodegrade But only after forever Painter's tape—of blue so oceanic It hasn't been seen since the Silurian seas Covered the Upper Midwest— That stretches between us like a reel unfolding Every beautiful moment under summer's moonlight When white-tailed deer looked like ghosts, silver and shining. ____
Margaret King is a Wisconsin author who enjoys penning poetry and flash fiction. Her recent work has appeared in Moonchild Magazine and Great Lakes Review. She is also the author of the poetry collection, Isthmus, and has flash fiction forthcoming in MoonPark Review.