by Craig Greenman

How to express the quiet.

Two dirty tissues,
grease beading on a plate,

I prayed to you this morning,
curled into a fist. We call this

the fetal position. My abdomen
drooped –

the weather has been fine. Today
was a delivery,

l’économie, the time
was stated approximately.

I feel the bones in my back. Ambulances
and grasshoppers. I know

I’m anxious with no cause, but you
are a liar.