in rows like cornfields.
Every direction I go
there's more to follow.
I cannot swallow
them whole.

His lies lie
uneven like my lawn
from dusk till dawn.
I’m not drawn to them.

His lies lie
down like a gambler’s
money on the table.
I'm not able to pick up.

His lies lie
on his head
like a cap -
flat.
He spat them out
of his mouth
like a downspout
running into the gutter.
I don't listen to him mutter.

in the afternoon
as sunflowers grow
full bloom. The rose wine
smells like sweet perfume. I string

my head on a cloud. But tie
it down to the ground. So, it doesn't
wander into the neighbor's yard
like a condor flying circles in

the air. And I slump in my plastic  
chair, as the golden sun sinks like
a stone in water. And how I hated
to be her daughter! I pen the lines

that bind me to her in pages
that can be fewer if I abridge. But
the ridge I climbed has no footholds
for my lines. So, I inked them in turpentine.

have teeth
that bite into lies
and mice them up
into mince-meat pies.

These scars
have warts
rough as nails
that hang on all
small details.

These scars
have fists
that knock down walls
punch holes in fences
and crawls through stalls.

These scars
have legs
that run over
the dregs of life
hungover.

in white, red, tan, gold
and black. He wears them dusk
till dawn. As he takes one off he
puts another on. Some are

wool. Some are cotton. Some linen,
some leather. Some with earflaps for
cold weather. Some have bands and
some feathers. For every day

its polyester. He's a cowboy,
and a soldier. He's a sailor and
a jester. He’s a baseball player
and cop. He wears a cap with his high-

top. A Fedora, Tam-O’-Shanter, Porkpie
or a Boonie.The grey felt makes him look
like George Clooney. In the evening, a
Night Cap. He changes hats in a snap.

with kindness. Sang
me a song. Flowered me
in rose petals and smiles
with shoulders mountains

strong.  Skipping hours,
like stones, day after day. My umbrella,
when showers turned this blue sky
to grey. Spoon fed me honey

dripping from his tongue. Painted
me green. Made me feel young, like
a babe swaddled and swung in
a cradle ladled in hugs. So high on

a pedestal, wearing white gloves. I clung
to him like a tight sweater. Clung so tight
I lost all my feathers. I couldn't fly. He killed
with kindness. And dropped from the sky.

the scales on his back
were part of his leather jacket.
His short legs ran in family.
His mother and father
were not gangly.
And even if he left me gutted,
I hadn't a thought
that he was cold-blooded.

is so hot
it fries eggs
on the sidewalk

His lips
so sweet
he curls them up
and shows his pearly teeth

His tongue
is a red carpet
rolling out as
as a chocolate barbet

There's a line
running up
from his lips
to his eyes
like a live wire
the sparks fly

He has me
in that smile
I guess I’ll stay
a while