Shiftless
By Amy Woolard
Day off that begins with James Tate & ends with Charles Wright
The wind makes a salad
Of the countryside & we still refuse
To learn each other’s last names. You get
What you pay-what-you-can for, is all. Love
Is not the thief love is still choosing to sleep
In the house the night after the thief
Has robbed it. Money burning
A hole in my tip jar. My kiltered love
Like a window AC leaking off
A second-floor sill. Almost everything
I can touch is an artifact I will have wanted
To’ve preserved as proof it all happened
Just this way. Sweet family meal—wave
Me down, however many seconds
It takes, the quiet Mississippi between
Them. Definition of prayer: let the perfect be
The memory of the good. If all you
Have is scissors, everything looks like
It’s hanging by a thread. Our days, these
Peonies are so brief & bound as fists.
When everyone shuts it down is when
We clock in. All explorers must die of heartbreak.
Source: Poetry (July/August 2025)