NEW RINGS BY FRANCES STACHL
"There will be trouble.
And baying at the moon. And bumps in the night.
Soft, small ones that peep.
There will be a magic of the fingers and doors to other worlds
might momentarily fly open.
And there will be you. Or I. Or both of us.
Standing with our fists shoved deep in our pockets, shoulders hunkered against the cold, making puffs of fake smoke with the breath.
And the street lamps making halos in the trees.
Which is familiar".