pi & anne

Boys in a camp, running on dusty ground, with a ball made of 25 plastic bags.

The news. The girl switches the channel to Chopin’s Berceuse.

They have been sending drones. Only half of the house is still standing, wires protruding from the walls.

The boy, dizzy, asks his mother if it’s time for strawberries—soon.

Spiders. The woman shies away from touching their cocoons as she clears the furniture out from the shed.

Naming a crater after their commander’s late wife, the Artemis crew falls into each other’s arms.

At a concert. A man and a woman in the dark, beneath a roof of wooden ribs, waiting for the candles to be lit.

counting
the stitches again . . .
some hills
must be
green