My yard sits on forty feet
of fog minus the dimensions.
Now, I can see the exceptional
letting go of things: The woman
down the street, upset, choosing
not to groom her Scotties.
The man walking
along his pole barn,
returning to slam the door.
Bracken drips. Jays over-soar
their puddles. All objects
camouflage disgust.
One man leaves home
ignoring my shape. That SUV
backs into a driveway. Even droplets
shout from somewhere. Everybody
shrouds their tears. Then, a palm
(shown in clouds of windshield)
waves my way.
— JAN WIEZOREK
Jan Wiezorek (he/him) writes from the Harbor Country of rural Michigan and is author of the poetry chapbook Prayer’s Prairie (Michigan Writers Cooperative Press, 2025) and Forests of Woundedness (Seven Kitchens Press, 2026). Visit him at janwiezorek.substack.com.