let go
of that little blister on her foot  
and sitting next to her
on the bus that jostles
her head on your shoulder

on the roof her
somnambulant hand
is tucked into your shirt
let go the concrete
floor that holds you up
whose sharp grip
cut her knees

let go the bruises
on your own knees
that dug deep into the tile
of the bathroom floor

let go
like the beach letting go of a wave
clouds of sand tumbling in sea foam

the cardinal flew
into the peach tree
and became a fruit

i pull my passion apart
until all my selves
are looking at each other bewildered
woozy in love with one another
and no energy to fight

i set each
up in a room to wait
together they get anxious

apart I grow anxious
in so many pieces
can’t each survive?

i walk into each room with a revolver
and only one bullet
i hand the gun to god
he puts it back in my hands and says
‘i am the bullet’

driving home i’m called to the void
by an oncoming truck
and i almost answer until it’s shaken loose
by the wind

the moment fades fast as it’s headlights
i never slow down
the broken yellow line like a dial tone
humming by

...

i dedicate my lucky streak to the cigarette;
one flipped in 20, saved for last
fed, in the seven minutes of fortune
to desire, but that moment is gone forever

love never goes unpunished;
so inspired in tobacco the stomach
aches and turns over, delivering
the fire of its contents out its back door

we both see exiting as a return
to one place or another, one state or the next,
the smoke and i; turning energy to waste,
are ****** through the plumbing or the open window

and though, shivering in the wind of the car,
i endure, pushing my seven minutes of luck
as long as it will stretch
i try to remember how to breathe because so often i forget

while she tied the bag Henry scooped a fly out of the drum of well water.
a muddy tear stuck to Yolanda’s cheek and the fly kicked it’s wings dry and flew off.

the puppy hadn’t eaten, laid on the steps, trembling so hard his legs kicked softly in the sun.
dressed in mud and a red sweater as we
stepped over him he looked past us through the shade.

Yolanda sat on an upturned bucket with him in her lap after picking him off the step. the other dogs pushed the room around with their noses in the air or around the floor and Henry kept them moving.

she tied the wrist of a rubber glove around his arm. i kicked a bowl of water to get out of her light. my veins started to swell and i wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

while Yolanda worked she moved fast Henry had left the room and i usually don’t look but this time i watched. she moved so slow now as she put the needle in.

she waited and plunged with a small motion and my legs stopped twitching i became drowsy and comfortable against her arm. i only realized what had happened when i saw a tear roll down her cheek and i moved back into the light because she didn’t need it anymore.

A swinging hammock puts this feeling in your gut of something like a falling glass

A bite blossoms on the top of your foot and like a blotchy swollen fruit itches to picked

Today tackle a wave with your entire weight at the curl and remember what’s its like to be thrown over a table

Here you are so tan and you want to be alone together with the sun

The shuttle comes tomorrow through the sand packed with the slow hurry back to Antigua

you smelled fire in the suicide lane
the broken yellow line separated you from
you, street baking your carcass and filling passing cars
with that dank aroma of death