In a Fog
I dreamed I was dreaming
both now forgotten
in the strange soup
of a summer morning
stirred by my waking
and the sun’s early rising
sandals, the wedge, clogs
high heels, higher heels
the highest heel
ankle boots, thigh high boots
rubber boots, fuzzy boots
yee haw cowboy boots
slippers, slip ons, house shoes
tap shoes, ballet shoes
shoes, shoes, shoes
her red canvas sneakers travel
with me in the backseat of my car
in the end, that’s all her Parkinson’s
would permit her to wear
Mint is bougie kudzu.
I threw mint in my evil neighbor’s yard.
My great grandmother once planted mint,
and my ancestry results came back saying I’m 25% mint.
Mint is more invasive than my 3 a.m. thoughts.
I planted mint, and now all food tastes of mint
and I can’t tolerate coffee.
I’m just a tangle of vines wearing clothes.
Mint ate my ex-husband.
It stole my bike.
It killed my dog
then my kids emancipated themselves.
I still had my mint though.
It rented out my spare bedroom.
I evicted it and it snuck in my basement.
Now it’s blasting Nickleback through the floor.
Mint committed tax fraud in my name
and ruined my credit score.
Mint foreclosed on my house,
and I woke up on a raft in the ocean.
our bodies
do what they’re supposed to do
be primal we say
& allow ourselves to ravage another
body to body to body to
sometimes it’s easier without love,
most of the time, actually
we can forget about when we were touched
when we didn’t want to be
body to body to body to
we can forget about those who touched us
whom we loved dearly
& who left
body to body to body to new body
I read the titles,
select a handful
by Crystal,
Filipovic/Challenger,
Anderson,
Jong,
Crystal again
and
Nichols.
I begin to play.
Spell It Out [O]
Stolen Voices
Speak [to me about]
How to Save Your Own Life [it’s]
The Story of English in 100 Words
I [promise I won’t] Judge You When You Use Poor Grammar
It’s fun to engage in title play.
nightfall in chamber
I had left my scarf on the front porch the day before.
It was sitting on a chair, and a string hung down from it.
That morning, a stray cat noticed it.
It batted at the string,
As if the cat thought it were some toy,
And as the cat pulled at it, it became a little longer.
It was an orange cat with black stripes,
And the pupils in its eyes reminded me of the midnight sky.
I didn’t notice the cat then,
And when it heard the sound of the door opening it darted away.
I picked up the scarf.
I wore it as I walked down the block.
It protected my face from the cold, even though it had begun to unravel.
I fiddled with the string as I walked.
The cat saw the thread, and it followed me.
All the way to my destination, then back home.
I still didn’t notice it.
When I went inside, I left the scarf on the chair again.
Every morning I would walk, and leave my scarf outside,
And every day, the cat would follow me.
One day, I saw my reflection in the side mirror of my parent’s car,
Which had been parked in our drive way.
The pupils of my eyes reminded me of the midnight sky.
The cat was always there.
It didn’t know who I was, but it was always following me, watching,
Even as it went unnoticed.
Every time I wrapped the scarf around my neck,
It would have one more hole from the cat’s claws,
And every time I walked, I would fiddle with the ever growing string.
Then one day, the scarf was gone.
I looked around the corner of my house,
And when I did, I finally noticed the cat,
Sitting on the ground, playing with the scarf.
Now I have a pet cat,
It still follows me,
And in the cats eyes I still see reflected my own,
Not because it stares at me and my worn scarf,
But because when I looked at it, that day, I saw a cat playing with a string,
And I thought, “That cat is just like me.”
To you Kraut will prob’ly mean cabbage,
but in German it has other baggage.
An herb is a Kraut
and weeds are Unkraut
some taste good but the others are garbage.
