foam floral caps, work of wet hydrangea,        

                          or pulse of caucasian lilacs in a sky-relieved frieze.        

                                   cambric pennons swag reconsidering      

                                          margins of wimpling burn,      

                                        wherein the stars…twiring stars,    

                                    the declining stars, moon and planets        

                                                            tur­ned--



                                      purchase light with morning-hands:        

                                         ­         green-bedizened;      

                                              amber trammeling bud.      

                                          absolve qualm suffusing tyre,      

                                             violet’s violent leniency--        

                                            a­nd feel, o’bask! in velvet      

                                                   ­ flume of veins,        

                                          as beams of conspiracy raise      

                                                  to­ post and lintel,      

                                         crutching a young god’s legs--



                                      and feel, o’supplicate!  bathe in      

                                                day’s anatomies,      

                                   til greave deposit in lacunary sleeves,    

                                   and a genuflecting sun bow eternally--

Crutching my way through the days,
until you come back this way.

Sleepless, harangued, hungry, tight.
Will I make it to the shore without your light?

Well I'm crutching to the next whiskey bar.
When I get there set my poles down say, "Bucket of Old Style please
          and a-whiskey."
Duke's her name and by seven it will be the only thing that matters.
I'm having me a happy hour, then an elated hour.
Then I'm going wherever my bleary eyes take me, crutching along and Jim
         on the song.
Well I'm headed to the next whiskey bar, if I don't get there then I won't get
         too far.
Yeah I am going to the next       whiskey bar.

Anne stands
on crutches
in the queue

to be weighed
by a nun
in the home

for sick kids
Skinny Kid
she whispers

to the boy
just in front
if I win

the choc bar
I'll share it
just with you

if you win
who will you
share it with?

you of course
he replies
in soft voice

other kids
up the front
fail to put

on more weight
so don't win
the choc bar

it's you now
Benedict
a nun says

Skinny Kid
stands steady
on the scales

you've put on
5 ounces
she tells him

he gets off
of the scales
and Anne

crutches up
on one leg
her stump swings

underneath
her red dress
steady now

the nun says
Anne stands
as steady

as she can
you've put on
7 ounces

the nun says
so you win
the choc bar

Anne smiles
and crutches
herself off

of the scales
the nun puts
the choc bar

in Anne's
dress pocket
let's go Kid

Anne says
and they go
out the back

on the lawn
she crutching
to the far

white table
and white chairs
with the Kid

beside her
making sure
she's ok

he pulls out
a white chair
and she sits

the Kid sits
beside her
and they share

the choc bar
between them
12 ounces

gained in weight
between them.

I think back to 5 years ago,
To those days in northern New York,
Where my life felt like some coming-of-age tale,
Coming into my own.

Each day was its own chapter,
Shenanigans and hijinks,
Bar room brawls and short-lived loves,
Drunken tattoos and crutching on snow 2 feet deep,
Barracks parties and field exercise tomfoolery,
Oh, how it all seems like such a dream now.

Fleeing from authorities,
Cackling with buddies as we disappeared into the crowd to make it to the next bar,
Showing up to work on Monday with a recently broken nose, blackened eye, and ****-eating grin,
With my buddies sporting similar signs,
Our First Sergeant taking stock of these injuries,
And walking onward with a little smirk.

Walking through Watertown,
Feeling the age of that military town,
Filled with secondhand stores and oddities,
My God such a surreal dream.

Stuck in bed,
Knee wrapped up in bandages,
Protecting all the stitches beneath,
Looking out the winter at the blizzard outside,
Craving a working leg more than the percocet,
And knowing that the dream was coming to an end.

So I told her
Anne said
stomping around
on her crutches

like a demented Amazon
I told her
to go **** herself
Baruch blushed

at the word
his ears tingled
as if they’d been slapped
what did she say?

he asked
she said I’d go to Hell
for using words like that
Anne said

crutching herself down
by the children’s slide
and shooed away
the children playing there

I told her
I’d see her there
she added
Baruch scratched his head

what did Sister Paul
say to that?
she said
if she were my mother

she’d put me
over her knee
Anne laughed
and stomped over

to the children’s swing
where little Miss Sad
was sitting but who fled
as Anne approached

so you aren’t allowed
to go to the beach then?
Baruch asked
no Skinny Kid

or so she said
not to go
without a member of staff
he nodded his head

she pulled a face
he fiddled
with his fingers
she scratched

the stump of her leg
so what do we do?
he asked
his eyes caught

by the exposed
remaining part
of her leg
go to the beach

of course
she said
and stop gawking
at my stump

will you Kid
unless you want
to kiss it
he looked away

back at
the nursing home
behind them
what if she sees us?

she won’t
she couldn’t see a fly
on her nose
Anne retorted

but what if we get caught
down there?
he asked
think positive Kid

we won’t
they won’t miss us
no more than Sister Paul
misses ***

she said
Baruch hesitated
he hated getting
into trouble

felt uneasy
about the deed
shall I get
your wheelchair?

no then they will know
if you go wheeling that
across the grass
no we’ll walk out

the back gate stealthily
she said
he looked at her
and smiled

she stared back
towards the nursing home
he stared
where her stump hung

just beneath
the short skirt
then looked away quick
as she gazed at him

let’s go Kid
and she crutched herself
forward between
the avenue of trees  

and he followed
looking back
at the windows
of the home

wondering how many
eyes were there
but she was going on
at a determined rate

not caring a fig
leaving all things
to some unknown god
or fate.