Four Years, Four Photographs

The rain is blowing randomly against my window.
I should be out where I can sit in a bar
and see the boats bobbing in the water,
the masts like a crowd of people slow-dancing.

Instead, at home in my apartment,
I decide to sort photographs, and find
only four of you. They are all color,
two out-of-focus, as if still taking form.

Debra Anderson Harrigan's poems have appeared in Spindrift, Mirror Northwest , Fragments, Only the Best Things, and Assay. She is currently attending the University of Washington to become a librarian.