Sometimes someone will knock and ask her to post poems more frequently.

 

 

Posted in early February 2020

 

 

 

She also leaves the names of poets on my answering machine in the tones of someone speaking of a lover. Which, of course they are.

 

 

 

You can hear the rustling of paper.  To make you long for a particular book you used to have.

 

 

 

 

When I call her, she will say:  “Listen to this line….”

 

 

 

 

She is also building a garden.  That is how I met her:  she was poring over a catalogue of exquisite rose varieties.

 

 

 

Jane, come away from the edge of the city and live near me!

 

 

 

 

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