Mary Ann Samyn

All Day I Stretched My Arms Out and Out

—Nothing. Now, the train whistle just brushes the tips of my fingers.
You like trains; I like a movie with trains as the backdrop.
Depression-era tactics; Natalie Wood in pigtails and a slip.
I take notes; it’s an interesting mix.

Quarterly Report

Is wistfulness a sin? I’m wondering.
This too is the day the Lord has made.
Boy oh boy, I sigh, beachcombing.
Found one state fossil for free.
What God hath joined together.
The luck here runs that clear.
Could glaciation work thus on me?
I’m readiness, personified.
I don’t begrudge the spider her web.
We’ve all got work we’re doing.
This lapse is momentary, mottled.
What emerges, emerges distinctly.