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.