Everything
little by little we walk mislaid by the camera’s eye offering no animal explanation and embittered by the experience of becoming two it is late April and you are still sleeping awake to the sound of miniature narrations murmured very intimate personal history behave like a stranger May will be better grayer like the moon or the skin of a whale carcass washed up on the beach the end is near a dot on the horizon running inward and inward out of inertia until all talk ceases—go visit the paddock the boats the baths the windmills little by little everything back in its shroud
Bryan D. Price’s prose poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in DMQ Review, Pithead Chapel, The Summerset Review, and elsewhere. He lives in San Diego with his wife, a dog, and a cat named for Pina Bausch.
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The Mantle 