i've always sanded down
the edges 'cause i'm sharp
as your mama's wit and just
as fast,

sometimes the words all fall to
the side like marbles in a bag
but they're all tourmaline and jade
just like the old wives tale
there have never been snakes here,

run the faucets, run the faucets
the tile has no room for all the light
there are fawns beneath the sink
and kudzu spreading across
my skin,

the blue granite in the kitchen
looks like ocean, ive opened the
windows and the birds have made
their home, the sky has
crept in, the clouds are in the
mud room,

it's raining here but the sun is out
i tried the desert once but it was
no good, there are sand flowers
but I am not
one

and if I am, I take the water
feed the ground, the joy has
always settled but i was never
meant for flight, I've always
come up from the earth
wound around the grape
vine, stood too long
and the long grass
takes
me
but

the blue granite tile
run the faucets, flood the gates
I was not made to reap no-thing.

when does your family stop being
your family, when you decided they
don't need to know your whereabouts
or who you're kissin',
when mama interferred
for the last time and you
drove the lonely 12 minutes
from his house to yours wishing
you made more sense, wishing
you didn't hurt so much over
every **** thing, so you're
tellin' god no more ultimatums
no more dark drives where you're
cursin and profanin his name

but when do you draw the line
when their home ain't your own
and your house big as empty feels
always warm but filled with you
and you're always far too much
too much thought, too much
water, not enough wood
he says you immediately told
your mom and i did, which got
me thinkin' about whether families
are comprised of just one, and if
I could be my own, if you need
two, if a dog counts
if there are rules
or just a hand on my back
if God's a good lead then
i'm pushing right back

did you ever want to shake out the skies
to watch the stars fall, catch one and fix
it on a ring with kudzu
did you ever think that fear
is just a gate without locks,
driven into the yard with father's strong arms--
so I dream about the day the man
died on highway 50, the road up to salida
away from Kansas City
saying thank you to the cadence of mississippi *******
star-watching till the early cold 1 am

i've been a little too ******* my soul
a vice on a child that don't know where else to go
and she ain't even physical, just an analogy for heart
but I whisper that, we can't keep holdin' on that way,
like there's no where else to hold,
cause that bridge has fingerprints set in stone
the places where god tried to take me home
and i dug in between the bricks to go no further.

but there's no difference in where I am,
runnin' up the sides of mosaic canyons
settin' fire to the brush, with matchstick palms
walking the line to hell on white hot sand,
widowbird feathers streamin' in my hair
drilling post holes with heels that can't stay above ground
on the backslide with promises hanging off my lips
gold drillbit tassels swinging against my hips
and he's close there behind me
waiting for the right misstep
'cause god don't catch but is one for reachin'
and i'm tired of tellin' him i'm ****** about his mercy
the way things are, the way i am, the things I can't
change without his help
anymore, the loneliness at local bars
when i'm sittin' by myself up
in the stands watchin' bulls
as honest as the colorado weather
throwin weak men off their backs
looking for the real challenge
prolly the way he seeks me out
to wear me down till all i can
do is stop and look back
away from the gates
kick off the mud
stop buckin', tossin'
sleepin' on the watch.

I permanently imprinted
the image of you sleeping
to torture me on a good day
sweden filling out your lips
and long dark lashes rippling
back and forth, we have always
woken up mid-dawn when everything
is still soft and paisley blue, so I can't
remember you in any other way
than dark and lovely, the morning
light always spilling over you like
you were born to be in the daylight
with picks of orange in your eyes
just the way I like them, oak brown
like fresh soil, moss and maple tree sap
looking at me like i'm the only person
who will
ever
look
back.