by Sherri Koehler | Nov 8, 2025 | Poetry
August Morningby Albert Garcia It’s ripe, the melonby our sink. Yellow,bee-bitten, soft, it perfumesthe house too sweetly.At five I wake, the airmournful in its quiet.My wife’s eyes swim calmlyunder their lids, her mouth and jawrelaxed, different.What is...
