levels of threat

​four-thirty, cafés rang full
in Baghdad the day before
 
(didn’t mean to say     bombs)
 
from a tv screen i considered
coffee, the very pistachios
 
did they think they wouldn’t
 
                  *
 
so many books in the house
immortals     (got out in time)
 
they grow around me  
in their perfect quiet  
 
               i try to read
 
choices planned for us 
 
no, i mean to suggest
husband he scans     rewards
like disbelief
 
                 *
      
seventy odd days between
election and likely fire
 
measure pumpkin flour butter
              note the lists drawn up
              names requested    
              what they’ll privatized
                                     or hack
 
(meniscus of risk)
 
right hand pulls
desk drawer        his passport
one year expired
 
our lives   left
here   equal
in weight
 
​

​Sharon Coleman's a fifth-generation Northern Californian with a penchant for languages and their entangled word roots. She writes for Poetry Flash, co-curates the reading series Lyrics & Dirges and co-directs the Berkeley Poetry Festival. She’s the author of a chapbook of poetry, Half Circle, and a book of micro-fiction, Paris Blinks, that came out from Paper Press in 2016. Her work appears recently in Your Impossible Voice, Pith, and Ambush Review.