aspic...

cells 

between the floorboards

from a hundred years ago

still hum tuned to a distant note

remnants 

line the bottom of a drawer

where new junk is cradled

gently in the arms of old junk

years

go by and here we are

in the very same interval

wearing new underwear

moments

do all of the heavy lifting

then retire below stairs

to serve and sup together

surety

could fill the flat surfaces

of a yellow six-sided pencil

with plenty of room to spare

love

lines the plain black hat

from which every magic rabbit 

we never deserved is pulled 

we

that which flutters slowly

leaf-like towards the scented soil

are the mattress of someone else's 

tomorrow

lucy meskill