MATTHEW ISAAC SOBIN
Yard Work
Smoke returns – finish or wear a new face
roll off Mother’s bed – we don’t see dead people
sometimes we smell them
She, walks – straw woven to a point – tied below the neck – arms sway
deconstruct – tear, rip, stack – trash recycle – cardboard, styrofoam
sweep layered dust – grime stop – triangle arms – equilateral and bracing
He, old and strong – limps – shovel dead plants into dead buckets
brush dirt – study a curved stick
leg drags to bucket – shrink and grow
Napa burns again
the world burns, they say
There’s more ease in blowing than sweeping
synthetic wind
Feather, fur, leaf in a cyclone
silence drops
He, non-worker appears – cross, cross back, shut the dust – encaved
Feathers learn
back and forth steps the blowing man – limp gone
Green-topped leaves and dark purple
bottoms twist – revolve back
creep in the wind
Matthew Isaac Sobin‘s (he/him) first book was the science fiction novella, The Last Machine in the Solar System. His poetry has appeared in Havik, the anthology Red Dwarfs Make The Best Homes, and is forthcoming in Midway Journal and South Florida Poetry Journal. He received an MFA from California College of the Arts. You may find him selling books at Books on B in Hayward, California. He lives and writes with his wife and two dogs. @WriterMattIsaac