The Under I remember crawling under the dining room tableafter Sunday lunch. Sitting cross-legged in a forestof feet. Jagged bones. Painted nails. Subtle scentsvinegar and cheese. The ends of bodies stacked orrubbing carpet or yanked back when I touched…I liked the solitary space. The singularity of my smallthoughts wrapping the under like a sock. Not… Continue reading POEM A DAY – July 17