Two Chopsticks

Two chopsticks stick out of her hair.
It's not a memory,
it's a photograph sitting on
the mantle, nearby where crosswords
got solved in tandem.
Going outwards there's cartons of cigarettes,
a door that slams,
larches, barns,
and a dog, running upwards across the dunes,
performing a ballet across the sand
past petrified forests that look like
two chopsticks sticking out of the earth.