by Yvonne Amey
& I’ll give this poem a gutsy title—
one with real Alanis-Morrisette-backbone &
place it in the Poconos
& there will be a flashlight in the poem & I’ll pour
moonlight into the forest
& the poem will wear an autumn-orange woodsy tone
& the three of us will be on fire—figuratively
brother G & me with dad alone together & alive
safely tucked inside our sleeping bags & tent & I will place
burping bullfrogs &lake water lapping a shallow shore
& I’ll watch dad & G fall asleep in rhythm with this poem's mood
which is always November & rhymes with how much I love them.
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