I Drive to North Carolina the Day After the Execution of My Wife’s Murderer

It’s raining ants.

Otherwise, the glass is clear

as drinking water,

save for the thousand tiny legs,

flinching phantom limbs,

waving at me.

You know how it is.

 

Well, it isn’t like that.

 

It’s different.

 

 

The Commonline Journal,  June, 2013