By Ruth Baumann

I drive 45 minutes to send a man
five states away photos of a sunset
over an alligator-speckled wildlife refuge.
He is a bright possibility, & he breaks
the tired in me. We talk about how nice
it is to be so small. I stand & stare
into the high waters as they night-blacken,
think how beautiful it is to not struggle.
Occasionally there’s a vague splash, but nothing
clashes in the water. Nothing happens,
which might be a stand-in for everything
true happening, because as I start to drive home,
darkness folding like a loose tarp over the earth,
I do that thing where I think in love.

Ruth Baumann is the author of Parse (Black Lawrence Press, 2018) and Thornwork (Black Lawrence Press, 2020). She holds a PhD from Florida State University and teaches in prison.A from the University of Memphis.
Website: ruthbaumann.com