A Basket of Something Warm Under a Napkin
I can’t tell you why it’s a thing
but it is.
If you are a chemist or legislator
you can’t say this.
The Fiat was parked on a tree-lined street
and it moved me.
This is my new suit,
Tatty, the truth is, but let’s hear it
for the kittens.
Martina McBride’s Everlasting Tour:
Nothing lasts forever
in the cold November rain: tougher.
A basket of something warm
under a napkin.
I feel badly about bringing this
to the neighbors.
They have a baby
and only one of us has been sleeping.
One advances at a particular
rate of speed.
A train pushes through apple country—
millions of apples
and a few wet leaves on the roof
of your mouth.
Dan Kaplan is the author of Bill’s Formal Complaint (The National Poetry Review Press) and the bilingual chapbook SKIN (Red Hydra Press). His work appears in VOLT, American Letters & Commentary, Denver Quarterly, Ninth Letter, Washington Square, and elsewhere. He is managing editor and poetry co-editor of Burnside Review and Burnside Review Press.