The world created limes,
and I didn’t know what to do with them.
I limn a whole other space
between spinal fluid
the candles everywhere
The Denver of my mind, or
a road, a hill, horses in snow,
Christmas lights on other houses,
but we’re not going home.
My mind is such a choir—Oh, Ginger,
Ginger, where are you now?
Where and how.