Three Poems


Tricycled belly in the beginning
Outlines her blown-up body
Tied thick, pulling her underneath


For a moment she assumes
Rhythmically rocking her natural insecurity
It might be her teeth


Margit had warned her
And neither slept nor ate
Upstairs, she rocks him gently on a pillow of warm milk
Hung uncomfortably somewhere between


Holds his head under the cold water
Go to sleep honey, go to sleep


Steadily swaying, searching pockets for a proper tool
She tumbles over, crying herself pink
A wet noise hiccupping from her throat



When I get to her apartment, she will have forgotten
Iím so happy to see you but you canít stay
Worm or bread makes no difference
Slamming pink brown gut-filled
You should see the rugs I ordered
And puddles on the sills that two towels canít soak
The screens bowed and holey from too much pushing
We should do this again, it’s never enough time
I tear my eye from the ground




Snake-skinned, I leave my casings
in your underwear drawer
Your dirty sock pile flakes with chrysalis
you look skyward, find me
sliming up the wall next to your closet.
I hoped you wouldn’t slam the door


I mistook backward glances for encouragement
and perhaps when I thought you reached for me
you were only stretching in another direction


your cheek over-laureled, your mouth covered
the eyes almost the last to go
and I swear I see your fingers moving
inviting me to circle at strings like a yarn-thirsty kitten
sword in hand


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