and if you go to war
i will sew a book
of stories
one for each
night
you
fight
so that when you
rest your
once vaquero
spirit
underneath
the stars
you will
forget you ever
had a body
instead
breathe
with new gills
in the ocean
embroidered
from my
finest
affection
if you say
wait
then i wait
in caves
spinning
my hair
into
the things
no one sees
into your
softest
return
how does a ferine
thing
protect
special
you
make a nest
in the hollow
of your favorite
tree
earth and teeth and pelts
wolf winter hunts
place
special
in the middle
pretty ribbon
shards of glass
baby teeth
jawbone
howl once
then
never
ever
look
back
the plastic leg of my
childhood doll
the special one
1970s irregular
red riding hood
in the box
carried from
foster home to
group home
left in hiding
twenty five years
returned with
ashes
in a box
of broken
glass
but
back to the leg
chewed up on
the toes
on the bath mat
kitchen counter
back porch
no one knows
where
the body
is
torn from the
box
stripped naked
examined
plastic pink leg
now
on the top
of the trash
the last gift
from
her
you tell yourself
don’t waste poetry
though it comes
sliding out
electric eels
in your
throat
doubled over
on a curb
chunks of
coughed up
heart
birds fighting
over your pieces
at your own
damn feet
don’t waste poetry
though it feels
so
damn
good
to coat yourself
in molasses
then gasoline
then
eternity
here in the
moss
i dreamed about
how much honey
i made this winter
inside my hips
of honeycomb
how fast my
currents
galloped
splashing up the
sides
of unfamiliar
embankments
until they
made your fingers
drawing
down
down
down
your
red berries
along my throat
all in a
tidy
row
i asked you about
kudzu
that morning
wondering if you had
the same snaking
of a throat
tendrils tightening
on
a wrist
hair and teeth
arms
thighs
owned by the
pulling
down
into
cool darkness
all daylight
blotted by
an impossibly slow
awakening
because of you
i researched the
foxtail
late at night
in my own
backyard
by
grabbing fistfuls
your friend
the moon
my only
witness
i swallowed
whole
while laughing
(of course)
praying that
they would
dig deep enough
into my own
wondering
heart
to make
a ferocious
garden
woodworker hands
bird watching eyes
there came a day
when you called me
delicate
i didn’t flinch
i didn’t growl
instead i
curled into your
palm
and dreamed
until
you knew
that
tame
ain’t the same
as
yours
my body has seen
war
is all
scratched into the cave
floor
sleeping inside
a ribcage at night
doesn’t help
but we make home
where the ghosts
glow
brightest
sometimes
have you accidentally discovered
earth
among melting
iceberg
eyes
did you get caught
there
swimming lazy
backstrokes
where the
song begins slowly
but finds its
footing
down aisles of
books
picks up speed
at frailty
plants itself in
a garden
of
knowing
