by Nicole Bagley
I set the table.
You sing to what is east
of us, palms open
to catch the music. Do you
pray for the boy your father
was? You wear his temper
on your sleeve, see his
tears where your shirt cuffs.
I set the stove too high.
You weave water with your
tongue then cool me down.
We talk about weather and
sleep, you never dream
when we’re awake.
I burn the pancakes.
You say I lack faith
and sage what’s singed
long enough to taste it
still. I watch the way
of the west, how it reflects
what it can never touch
I hold your breath.
What if we’re alive
and don’t know it
yet?
About the Author:
Nicole Bagley is a poet from Revere, Massachusetts. She graduated from the University of Massachusetts Lowell’s Creative Writing program. Her work has previously been published in The Offering and Cathexis Northwest Press. When she is not reading or writing, Nicole enjoys finding new music and spending time with her dog, Thor.