Eve Rounds

i wrote you a poem

my mind jumps rope
from you to him to her to them
sometimes tripping
sometimes double skipping
no need to catch my breath
you’re there each time
the hot rain
cools my cheeks
you’re there each time
the bedroom plants are watered
from the outside
i’ve stopped stalking storms
sometimes retreating
sometimes greeting
they find me tying knots
you’re there each time

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him ok (but they’ll all be about the hims) good idea bad idea no good twinning and losing

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass your back to me is waiting any news at all? running down broad steps into your brotherly arms crying without breath!

incircles

is it the ticking of the third hand or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries both measuring time “going in circles” as he would

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards