On a whim, she pulls on the shoulders of
a yellow-cushioned chair, drags its legs across
the hardwood, ignoring the scratches, the chair
seemingly growing claws, fighting inertia.
She negotiates the doorway, posing,
adjusting the heftiness of the chair, until
it relents like a spooked-off spirit
conceding to a dry place. There, the chair
gouges two leg tracks as grass too yields.
She checks for sun and shadow before settling
on a spot and then retrieves the frail frame
that only a few short months earlier
had been thick and was now at her mercy.
She sits him down, props a blue hat on his head
and covers him with their children. The photo
is her evidence that there was love here once.
To him, the fresh air is proof there was once life.
Thomas Locicero’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Roanoke Review, Boston Literary Magazine, Long Island Quarterly, The Good Men Project, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Jazz Cigarette, Quail Bell Magazine, Antarctica Journal, Rat’s Ass Review, Scarlet Leaf Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Hobart, Ponder Review, vox poetica, Poetry Pacific, Brushfire Literature & Arts Journal, Indigo Lit, Saw Palm, Fine Lines, New Thoreau Quarterly, Birmingham Arts Journal, Clockwise Cat, Snapdragon, fēlan, The Ghazal Page, Red Savina Review, Better Than Starbucks, Poetry Quarterly, The Write Launch, Bindweed Magazine, The Skinny Poetry Journal, Abyss & Apex, Avocet, and Speculative 66, among other journals. He lives in Broken Arrow, OK, USA.