17.

but away
away a
way
take me

make it grayer
silent more silent

now go
and bring me
back
when you’ve done

but now wait
never no never

you will stay
you will
pull
my hand through this

leave me
not alone
but now (take) hold (of) me
away

I do not know Maybes

I do not know Maybes.
Ifs, Perhapses, Contingents, and the like.
They are not from my neighborhood.

Now Certainties, I know.
We are comfortable together in our
solid, fact-bricked home.
We built it with our own hands.

Perfection is our neighbor,
and we try to keep our grass as nice as hers
(but our lawn mower isn’t as exact).

We have libraries of isms
and we organize them alphabetically.
On Tuesdays, we play bridge with Proof.
He always has interesting things to teach us.

We are not sure where the Maybes come from,
or why they show up sometimes
but we do not associate with them.

We don’t have time for their flower dances,
for the Conjectures and Irresolutions that visit them
and drink their herbal tea.
We have work to do.

The South

quiet bright 4:00 pm
curling heat waves inside my window screen
electric fan, stand still

this feels like a sweating glass of sweet tea on a creaky front porch swing

this feels like The South
The South
The South

growing up from watermelon vines
John Deer and scrawny dogs
falling off the back of a four-wheeler

this feels like a wooden ladder covered in lady bugs

jasmine spilling over the fence
and honeysuckle we eat gingerly like tiny beads
hot grass between my toes

this feels like the saddle leather smell in a barn closet

this feels like The South
The South
The South

Suprematist Composition: Gray on Darker Gray

While the serpent rolls her circles, circles, circles,
Down from between blood-red thighs of darker skin,
Drip coils writhing older than your folded hands.
Jezebel strokes her gnashing wolf pups foaming at the tongue;
She feeds them pearls for swine and slices of her ankle.
And open here your parasol, my dearest lady Juliet,
Eroding lacey rills of petticoat truffles venom leaking from the laces;
Throw it into the green dark wild with poison ivy,
Glistening red-leg vines extend a broad and curling leaf
In coiling, coiling Mother Earth, her knees from wine and muck.
We sing Her praises,
Holy Magdalene.

But This Time With Claws

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

16.

I watch you sink and I sink with you
Drowning in choked sand-air
Buried and burying still into the dunes
You are too weary
to take the glass of cool, cool water
at your fingertips

Oh, to bathe you with my hair
To fill your lips with beads of water down my cheeks
To resurrect you with what’s left of me
I would cut off my two arms
to see a shadow of a light
beneath those eyelashes
some day

15.

In time of
little breaths and
nibbled like leaves the tips of my fingers
into rose-hued longer evenings

In time of
unbidden unforgotten
back-and-forths
blood stains caked on denim knees

In time of
lilies, I lost track
sweet spit like honeysuckle stems
and broken secrecy

I will forget and find Me
waiting in the quiet