Husband, step-father, photographer, miscreant… but not necessarily in that order.
I’ll gather your voice
in the cup of my hand.
I’ll add in onions and carrots
and celeries too.
I’ll let you simmer there
until two or so.
I’ll drink you
in the afternoon.
We waited until the beginning of autumn —
when the mosquitoes died back and black
and white were equal — to go into the woods
to become one with the natural things.