Weather Poem
And then, it recedes
into a rain
Intent, thick, swollen, sick.
Screaming against the skylights, shields,
asphalt and
drowning worms.
And then, it recedes
into a rain
Intent, thick, swollen, sick.
Screaming against the skylights, shields,
asphalt and
drowning worms.
I don’t know how to respond
to this compliment
which I wrangle into place
by surrounding it
by self-deprecation,
direct their view to the rest of my body governing
these wee, elfin, gnomish hands,
these tiny, childlike empress
earlobes, these miniaturized, precious
bitty feets
being elephantine.
Sluggish. Immorally decadent, extruded
ill-formed
and an asymmetric center askew
from its poles.
Your scar captivates me, the soft bridge on your flexing, fleshy, whipped cream arm, the scar from falling that interminable distance from the apple tree bough’s own break to the ground. I know that much. What captivated you there? Dragged you like a bonded prisoner into heights unknown. Made you taste danger like sharp, unripened blackberries.
There were epics in which I never uncovered my face,
though I saved you
from the cannibals desirous
of your scalp,
from the Lorelai,
from the mirages in the desert that sung your true name.
We clap out a reveille and sing
against each other
against the braise of the road,
like we are a constant twenty-one
gun salute praising prairie
grass, dogs, and fire.
How you strain to find the swiftness
to catch me.
How I struggle for the stillness
to be caught.
ramen noodles require a microwave
you steal twinkies instead,
thinking how lil’ debbie wants
to
insinuate
that you are a ding dong,
a ho ho,
or a molten, indigestible square of the Devil
I made my own meaning in the absent man dreaming himself to his lover, surprising her with a kiss.
The trains are running cargo. They are far off in the distance, but you can hear the Ferdinand in their charging horns riding the ambient…