if
lucid we see clearly: love, ambition, or wings.
if
daughters we feel excitements: inner fire, literature beauty,
imagination,
fury, or zeal. what
should
fever us?
trailing
our tracks: broken radios, turntables, ottomans or
dead
kittens; to flee faster, to look into alleys, to
chase
so quickly and still be there. “Turn off the blender,
give
my emotions back!” soft poetry or
dresser drawers to have me for hostage:
you
shower in me, your towel is drying in me, I smell your hair.
those
fields are flea bites, or challenged memories, where
a
teenager hurt us. grape juice. generic cereal. or broken grammar!
blowers
are here. I smell breath. It distresses us.
clouds
are un-vigil. they need closure. while they hang for flowers.
I’ll
wash lettuce or cut tomatoes or bleach the ham.
