My mistake is cupping the casings up,
celebrating the art of creation
that happens in the space of the worm,
where I see a joy,
but don't know how to help,
in the open air alone.
I try not to think about it
with other couples who I know
don't think about it. We split
appetizers, and try the craft
cocktails, and drop our cards.
My next mornings are simple:
the tune of the soil, and rubbing
through what was house food.
The physicality of this
is our common language.
I want quiet to hear it, and am wrong
because I've tuned the people mute
when I should invite our hands to join.
Adam Deutsch lives in San Diego, teaches college composition and writing, and has work recently or forthcoming in Arsenic Lobster
, Spinning Jenny
, and Mojave River Review
. He is the publisher at Cooper Dillon Books, and has a chapbook from H_NGM_N Books called Carry On
more by Adam Deutsch: