"Relays" by Yutaka Ninomiya


(A swallow’s shadow slices across the blue.)
After 40,000 hours staring at a screen, fingers think before I do. On his second day, a new hire who joined this spring asked me to slow down because he couldn’t keep up with my fingers.
(A swallow’s shadow slices across the blue.)
From beneath the eaves of the garage downstairs comes the noisy chirping of life. Four beaks fall silent at the sign of a visitor.
(A swallow’s shadow slices across the blue.)
One Saturday afternoon. He says he wanted to become a veterinarian. He wanted to be a kind veterinarian.

Feathers of a swallow scattered on the ground 
The immaculate white bed is open
In the distance, sirens



"Cloud Hour" by Judy Halesbky


I have lived in fields, across cow pastures, outcroppings and lean-tos, have traveled at night tree to tree in the pitch dark waiting for lightning 
 
a room of one's own isn't a room, it's an income
 
if this were a song it would go: in bloom in bloom in June
 
I have worked in classrooms, restaurants, canoes, cabins, on docks and podiums, have signed and released, have cashed and spent, have closed out at zero
 
the man doing the background check looks at the creases in my fingerprints and asks, are you a dishwasher?
 
it's not our mulberry tree but the branches grow over the fence heavy enough for us to reach them
 
at bedtime, she asks, can I please just pretend to be an abandonded kitten in the rain with 140 sister teacup kittens that you find and bring home and love?
 
dusk, a propeller seed from a maple tree spinning down
 
in bloom, in bloom, in June