August 16, 2022

how to make your own weather

Jim steps into the bakery kitchen, measures powdered sugar, butter,
sets the mixer on high. Down the street, a busker is packing up his guitar,
singing the lineup in his head, readying for a performance that may
or may not be absent of an audience. Elsewhere, Connie contemplates the next
blank canvas, weighing the contours of a still life. And on her first morning of school,
Poppy sports a necklace she made out of a single wind chime. I imagine this new
meteorology everywhere - drifts of shortbread and sheet music and the shape
of two pears leaning their hips against each other, and a lone prong of metal
that rises and falls against a young girl’s sternum as she leans into the day,
churning ever-so-slightly the air around her every time she breathes.