two poems



by Stacie Leatherman



Postcard from Idleness



So what, so what anything,

because beautiful, because why not,

because it should or should not be

ventured


says the zealot

between Novembers.





Postcard from the Fire Drill



Yesterday holds together

like a pup dozing loose

in the arms.


Rust theories

fly through absent corridors.


Winter darkness shines like a bell.


Look at the moon, says yesterday’s Aaron.


Coatless, both of them.


The commonality of love,

its steady, durable pain and sweetness,


buttons itself to various skies.


 

Stacie Leatherman is the author of two books of poetry: Stranger Air (Mayapple Press) and Storm Crop (BlazeVOX Books).