I introduce Penelope Gwin,
A friend of mine through thick and thin,
Who’s travelled much in foreign parts

dinah
shoreme
etsthocea

I do not want the curious stranger
Staring, the smell of flame brought down

The vegan gourmet will have his way. Lamb chops
will soon be relegated to quaint cabins in the olden days.
The ballooning business of burgers, too, will change,

I slept in the back seat like a bad thought.

I know what you search, going further
Than promised, your refusal to look up
As if something might never be found;

Her breath swung open like a broken shell:

To enter the field without speaking
Of the bad years is to trust what is

Moving away from rattled towns,
gaining, as a bird in a dishwasher,
an altered view, the owlish lakefronts

That is why uprooted fields meandered in the midst of roads