what keeps us
there’s a cat at the backgate
alfreda lent me her good belt
an angel puts friends in low places
on the jukebox and a shudder
the length of a highway rides my spine
i refuse to name what homes in me
and then i do—
sometimes an angel is a dirty tee shirt
another round on somebody else
it’s friday night, too late for cropdust
too early for harvest
the moon hangs like a hairbrush
on the edge of the sink
my ghosts have yet to come round
for a drink and talk of salvation
but there’s not a god here
like the one that observes us
from a limitless distance
only this steady reminisce
what keeps us from loneliness
no silverspoon for you says an angel
you’ve got your own hands
alfreda lent me her good belt
an angel puts friends in low places
on the jukebox and a shudder
the length of a highway rides my spine
i refuse to name what homes in me
and then i do—
sometimes an angel is a dirty tee shirt
another round on somebody else
it’s friday night, too late for cropdust
too early for harvest
the moon hangs like a hairbrush
on the edge of the sink
my ghosts have yet to come round
for a drink and talk of salvation
but there’s not a god here
like the one that observes us
from a limitless distance
only this steady reminisce
what keeps us from loneliness
no silverspoon for you says an angel
you’ve got your own hands
nicole v basta's poems have found homes in Ploughshares, Waxwing, Crazyhorse, Plume, Ninth Letter, etc. She is the author of the chapbook V, the winner of The New School's Annual Contest and the chapbook the next field over, forthcoming from Tolsun Books in 2022.