Cartons of cast statuettes, melting to jagged nuggets,
Tin turtles all, back in time, bartering your mother to reconsider.
From high in the sky, top of the topmost, Hyperion redwood,
Smartest monkey calls all dogs to squat on driveway, lookout!
Here comes Hollywood movie brute, sour soba noodle,
Makes sucking noise on face of girl hero.
sunshiny feeling in my belly
moonbeam glow in my heart
eyes a sparklin
and a smile as big
as a parmesan wheel
Slipping in through the blinds
riding a sliver of moonlight like
the evil twin of the Silver Surfer
he’s already landed on the edge
of the bed and is droning on
even before I am fully awake.
Like a sad old drunk, his stories
circle around themselves in
ever-tightening spirals that
seem to demand an answer.
There is none. I must noodle
around on the guitar or read
something in Spanish to try
and make him drowsy. My wife
suddenly wants to move, which
is probably the reason he
showed up tonight, and that
might not be so bad if I knew
he couldn’t get the new address.
the nurse practitioner
who comes up to the the clinic
once a month
always mentions that my cervix
is very cooperative.
and in spite of my knees spread
and my feet in the stirrups,
i can’t help but laugh
and say thank you.
the Thomas Kinkade print
tacked up to the stained ceiling
gets me giggling to begin with.
i always wonder if she keeps
that English garden rolled up
in an instrument bag somewhere.
right next to the speculum.
a soothing necessity of male composition
for women whose privatest parts
want to be difficult.
I observed through the window as you watch the rise and fall of her sleeping chest
There is a softness in your eyes and a stillness in the air
I stare as you outreach your hand and brush the fly aways behind her ear, I touch my face to make sure mine are still there
And I am a haunting, harrowing being
I find every crack and crevice to place myself in to witness the flowers blossom
And when the first chill comes and those petals begin to welt, I will still be here
Paving the entry way,
bricks with names engraved;
a mausoleum in miniature.
I couldn’t believe teachers,
classmates, friends
departed. Reality set in
when I saw my sister’s name
on the small rectangular block
of red clay. The only monument
bearing her name.
