and said “Maximalist” as if
it explained everything. I gave
her muffins with cranberries,
pine nuts, rooibos tea and dark
chocolate. I warned her
to duck so she wouldn’t

hit her head on the hanging
colored glass, shooed the dogs
off the couch and lit a fire. I offered
heist novels and poems, music
from when we were young.
She excused herself
and went home.

As explanation, she told me
there’s just too much world.
Repose is the spare swept pine
of an almost empty room. We are
a mismatched comedy of styles,
with her one black cat hiding
and my three orange tabbies

Selected byRaymond Huffman
Image credit:Raymond Huffman

Sara Clancy is a Philadelphia transplant to the Southwest.  Her chapbook Ghost Logic won the 2017 Turtle Island Quarterly Editors Choice Award. Among other places, her poems have appeared in Off the Coast, The Linnet's Wings, Crab Creek Review, The Madison Review, Misfit Magazine, Avatar Review and Verse Wisconsin. She lives in the desert with her husband, their dog, two ordinary cats and a psychotic cross-eyed one.