Usually, by the time I get to the bird house
at the zoo, my legs are ready to give way,
I am hot, feeling ungainly,
and I imagine all the peoples in the world
reduced to patterned chatter.
I realize I can’t add much more than a bird
to the scheme of things.
But I find them delicious.
I’m not impressed anymore.
It’s like my glasses are too scratched
to see anything but days filled
with the same rolling wheels fueled by
fried foods and angry newscasters.
A woman is called brave for wearing
an outfit that looks like 1980’s vomit
while a man looking online for refuge
hits the underside of his desk
with his cock. They’re both empty.
The air is strange and tastes like
burnt leaves. Are there any waterfalls left?
I’m injured, moving slower and I wonder
if I’ll ever return to my normal speed.
When I try to meditate, my essence
becomes all about fried chicken
and mashed potatoes- and oh Lord,
Texas Sheet Cake… please!
A little longer, I keep telling myself
but I’m not sure what I’m waiting for.
I’ve waited a long time to see the moon
and sometimes it seems
she’s been watching me
and maybe waiting for a reaction.
I don’t think she knows how thrilling
it is to learn her craters.
I already know I don’t measure up
but we can still dance to her light.
The hills at night almost demand it.
I left my womanly spirit in the bog
to be preserved in a state of punishment.
I chose to go to work and eat an apple.
Birdsong became idle chatter
and I was too busy to notice clouds.
Storms shook my insides, distracting me
from my place in front of the screen.
I noticed places in the pillars
where vermin had eaten their way in.
I couldn’t bear to look at my own parts
for fear of cracking wide open
unleashing all the tears enough
to flood the world.
I think at the end, the bog will loosen
its hold and there will be freedom
but we won’t understand the difference.
Flowers can be clipped or wild
and still carry a colorful tune.
The strings battled the legs
of the table
while he glowed
beneath sheets
watching
waiting
to see if music or sleep
would win the day.
He was so warm,
she could read him
from across the street.
His table threw her
a love song in a minor key.
