Watering the plants again
first the oxalis, then the cactus
ginger, violet, corn plant.
Threadbare, colorless carpet
a track from bed to toilet to couch.
Constant talk of apex, plateau
ventilators, infection, death.
Almost out of birdseed, cat food
Ramen soup, frozen chicken.
Six feet, ten feet, hard surface
soft surface, cardboard, copper
conferences, computer parties
pajamas, books and music, a walk
along isolated railroad tracks
trying not to pass through air.
Brad Garber writes in the Great Northwest. He fills his home with art, music, photography, plants, rocks, bones, books, good cookin’, and love. He has published poetry, art, photos, essays, and articles in many quality publications. He was a 2011, 2013, and 2018 Pushcart Prize nominee.