Brandy Milowsky

Moving Twenty Times

It was impossible
for my lungs to fill a balloon,
so I measured accomplishment

in things I could reach,
opening the shades
so you could see

Juniper roots
split from Oregon
lying strung

in LA streets
and growing far
as Boston's cold sun.

Where my roots begin, you know
the evergreen, the smell of cut
wood. You know the dead

keep property,
but give back an insight
to last our lives.

You know I don't go out in the sun;
what is implied is what I mean.
If you ask what the weather is like, here,

I will say: the sun is slanted.


The 2River View, 4.3 (Spring 2000)