ache and ache. how does anyone live?
by Sarah Wernsing
neighbor’s husband had a stroke
years ago. he hasn’t worked
since. fire truck comes again
where another neighbor has fallen.
each call more evidence of disease
progression he cannot stop.
just north a man came home
found immigration officials at his door.
daughter will graduate high school.
father will not be watching.
if I fold towels lengthwise
then again. if I stack them
facing all the same way. if I order
jars by height by alphabet
by frequency of use. if the children
know bath before story before bed.
if we hold each other. arms as talisman.
breath a ritual that keeps us
though our hearts just muscle.
though our brains tangled neurons.
one summer we paint birdhouses.
slotted balsa wood. so flimsy
no bird will ever choose
this precarious perch. anyway we hang them
in the yard. anyway we tell the children
watch for babies next year.
anyway we hope a miracle.
pray again and again keep us safe.
oh god. will you.
Sarah Wernsing is an advisor and instructor in the College of Liberal Arts at Colorado State University where she is also an MFA candidate. Her other work has appeared in Citron Review, CALYX, Pilgrimage Magazine, and elsewhere.
by Sarah Wernsing
neighbor’s husband had a stroke
years ago. he hasn’t worked
since. fire truck comes again
where another neighbor has fallen.
each call more evidence of disease
progression he cannot stop.
just north a man came home
found immigration officials at his door.
daughter will graduate high school.
father will not be watching.
if I fold towels lengthwise
then again. if I stack them
facing all the same way. if I order
jars by height by alphabet
by frequency of use. if the children
know bath before story before bed.
if we hold each other. arms as talisman.
breath a ritual that keeps us
though our hearts just muscle.
though our brains tangled neurons.
one summer we paint birdhouses.
slotted balsa wood. so flimsy
no bird will ever choose
this precarious perch. anyway we hang them
in the yard. anyway we tell the children
watch for babies next year.
anyway we hope a miracle.
pray again and again keep us safe.
oh god. will you.
Sarah Wernsing is an advisor and instructor in the College of Liberal Arts at Colorado State University where she is also an MFA candidate. Her other work has appeared in Citron Review, CALYX, Pilgrimage Magazine, and elsewhere.