Living as Magnets
       

The mood of the oven—
      plastic is more than plastic

when it burns. Did we design this
room to smell of plastic? The open
floor-plan circles us into each other.
And who cares.

And who suffocates. Fields suffocate
as snowfall pulls our bodies outside.

It shouldn't be shameful to breathe.

Wheat stubble crunches as feet
sink into snow. The ground pulls us.

For as long as I can remember,
the ground has been pulling us,
as if iron laced our bones, promising
            last breaths, a few

last clear breaths.

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Copyright © 2019 Bret Shepard All rights reserved
from Negative Compass
Wells College Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission