Eve Rounds

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 shuffling
cards shuffling in flight
the sizzle of pungent food
your cough more habit than clearing of the throat
your hug
shrinking over time
but always encompassing
a campfire
carbs baking
fruit frying
your regular soap
your hidden indoor herb garden
your roses
gas and oil
good beer
bad beer
stolen blob of raw sourdough after rising but before baking
anything breakfast related
curry all colors all countries
dark chocolate
good beer
bad beer
missing you
missing you
missing you
missing you
missing you

good morning untitled

what happens now save every voicemail not that his tone would have been forgotten but to hear him call me tweety as many times as

snip snip

the magic of a fresh cut i am literally lighter though not by much my shoulders have less to lug my neck has less to

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!


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