If we are care-
ful, if we stick
close to the on-
ly road, if we
don’t make any
more. If we watch
where our toes hit
and keep them out
of nests and things,
keep them off of
heads and tails, keep
the growing young
alive and well.
If we walk with
gentleness and
grace when we go
to meet the lean-
ing stalks. If we
stay on barren
ground and if we
don’t impede the
newest shoots, if
we let the lit-
tle locust sit
in place and we
be sure to step
aside — then the
curse will go on
by, and the bus-
y sliding heart
will die. The eggs
will grow to fly,
the buried mess
will come alive.
Archives for category: Poems
it’s my fault, i took its thing
i flipped the switch and four bulbs went
off, out, dark
and everything nice and quiet — me in the soft bed warm — til the panic flits, the pinging: me thinking someone sent a set set of jacks down the water spout outside — do people even play jacks anymore? did they ever, one time, one day? or was
that all a lie, a joke, a trick — and do we even have
a water spout, out there?
how does the rain get off my roof?
but it’s not that, it’s this thing in the blinds, this winged thing,
and when i realize what it is i am all cringes, imagining
the wing dust getting shaved off by the thin metal slats, slats that i
could bend but slats that are like blades and
saws for anything less than palms
the taut strings, the little feathers getting torn and tossed at all the wrong angles
imagine the insect bruises inside its exoskeleton, the meaty little core all blue and ouch
and is it going to fall into my laundry bin and die? or die
and fall into the laundry bin? and which
would hurt it worse? and how
will it wash? will i know the corpse
when i find it, when i’m folding the fresh warm clothes? will i feel its legs first or its wings? will i mistake it
for a gum wrapper in a pocket seam?
i hear it still, go still.
and i think this is what gets me:
that it could go to light and end up lint
Please Be Respectful…
