by Joe Engel

Gabriel grinds his teeth

smooth in his sleep

but he can’t remember

his dreams.

He scoops up fallen

maple leaves

and drops them

near the canon in the park,

watches how they rock

like a dinghy

on their short descent

to practice letting go.

On the marble bench

near the garden, a man

is watching a space

where pigeons could exist,

a girl next to him is staring

at the bakery, her hands locked

on her stomach

as though she holds the world.

Gabriel looks

at my chin before he speaks

when a falling leaf

glides behind his head.

“If there is anything

more than what

you see”, he says

“let me know”.