>no kiss to heal
i feel so naive, the way
children devour paternal love
with no intelligent comprehension
but understand when the thing is too fragile
when the lonely couple is weak, i
wean myself off petulence then cut
what remains, hard diagonal slices
stick to the soil, resolved in nude patience
and, now, free of sexuality. opposed
we are when our lovers sicken in the Fall
so natural, the sickness its opposition
its patient, weathered color; out of a breeze
your son will snatch the maple seed
straight soft fingers
sticky with sap, pull apart its belly
and press it to his nose.
>Affectionate, but underwhelming
wearing too much deep green on mayonnaise skin
an ounce on yr sunshy hip
( yr shamrock is small
( & will stay small )
Dote: Kicking sand into the dry breeze
thick meals slowly souring under the sun’s thumb
eye. wild peaks of perfect waves.
what was from yr womb
dropped into the red morning sand
tongued clean, a relic sanctified in predawn ache.
>You think too long
about what else belongs
in yr coffee, “One large
uh Coffee. With, uhmilk? And
uh. Yeah, and one. Uh..
Uh. Twouh, sugars. And
Sugar. One, no two sugars.”
I focus too long on
anger, desire to let hate
warm the mouth, splash
gums & teeth with whatever
sweet becomes when it is broken down.
Some are bitter, some are numb
noodling back & forth in yr mesh shorts
on yr soft clean rubbery basketball shoes.