JoAnna Novak
city of Mary

Come back to earth true and
replenished, argan oil syruped
and under one roof,

undone in straw, reformed
in bricks, any kind of sticks. I
will maintain these streams,

huff and puff, in a waistcoat,
gaiters, tell me what makes air—
I’ll unzip the crisper.

Meet a bowl of blue-bellied eggs,
soft-boiled for bacon day
in the Mother House. I see the grief-

laden clouds. I'm sick: not a fool.
Just multiplicitous with duties: Rake
cloisters, snuff candles.