WEATHER UPDATE
A mechanical whirring runs inside machines nearby.
There’s a hollow feeling in my teeth.
It’s like I’m clean, my skin wet with bathwater still.
Instead the cotton knit of my spring sweater weights slightly on my shoulders.
Around my wrists the sweater’s loose.
Machines nearby cool themselves.
Tonight we wait for the Gulf front. We predict accumulation.
One of us warms her hands between her thighs.
I twist my silver rings as they seem to loosen on my fingers.
My hands are cold.
There’s a hollow feeling in my teeth.
Tonight the redbuds are way down south
spitting out the shades they keep down all winter.
We wait for accumulation.
The machinery nearby cools itself.
It’s like I’m watching, my body dripping still, but instead I’m patient
for the warm front to meet the cool.
A mechanical whirring is hollowing my skin;
my teeth are clean.
The cotton knit of my spring sweater accumulates.
Way down south, the redbud warms her hands between her thighs.
Her skin is wet.
The silver rings loosen. Around the wrists I’m clean.
Over my shoulders, the front comes up from the Gulf, dripping still.
It’s like I’m hollow.
It’s like I’m silver.
One of us is watching, way down south all winter.
Inside, machines weigh—slightly.
I’m patient waiting, keeping the shades down.
On my fingers, they seem to loosen.