silhouettes in mon-tree-all – Atsushi Ikeda



shadows fill themselves

like jugs,


             the dark






what do you look like

when you take your time do you have

a thinking cap on

Is it warm         can you breathe in

the air of your attention

when it leaves do you

notice. Is it


warm when inertia

thaws           a girl sleeping

with headphones on can

she hear you when eyes

nudge her so she can

wake up in a poem

waiting with mr. newscap

   and service dog (sam)  

to get off at a different

season.    Do you look

like them   their eyes

borrowing speed from

the tires to see the world

pass by them faster    and the heat


                  baked into

    the pavement    making

smells of feet & cinnamon

flower from the cracks as your

erotic double

is just finishing

a crossword

at the cafe, rubbing

off the answer

to an impregnable question: Is it warm


where you aren’t? Three letters.