Tidal Waves Don't Beg Forgiveness

anticipation

i’ve seen you once

had my tongue twisted
into stripes until
this second time coming

i’ve mixed minor chords
with major chords

and traded narratives with you
without touch

(which will surely come with patience)

now: nerves like a bolt
of lightning

i’m learning again

this art of anticipation
broken down into the parts

of sunday algorithms

tell

and when the lyrics of rain
strike like the secrets whispered
between the keys of possibility
we will dance
our limbs scattered like
vowels lost in the stories
we have yet to tell;
will you listen when i
stand over you willing,
when
you bend backward in the
light of the fireflies in
our touch?

as i sit watching the iv drip
in small waterfalls i am reminded of rain, the freshness of water
on my face. i have only begun
to trace my own miles. and i
will measure them by the beat
of my own heart, release myself
to water and drift, cast my arm into water and let my careless fingers tell me stories of dawn.

fable

do not let go of it; do
not unwind the yarn of
yourself. you may hear
crickets but the miles
of yourself are chart
enough to care for this new
cartography.
be not so fearful when
you have waxed the wheel
and wound down. long
ago you talked of
arithmetic, cat eyes
lust, love, and greener
hills. when your body
wrecks its neurons like
cut strings and no one
handles the phone
continue on for the fable.
it has been you, you, you
all along
for better
or for better.

deer

naked, you are my little deer
arms and mouth hungry
straining up, furtive
ready to be caught
you loose one single strap
asking to eat
and i oblige
the arrows have been put away
guards at ease
i chase your haunch
the soft fur i only know
in my teeth

when you tell me yes i plunge
and i’m no longer hunting.

waltz

dance as dance can
i am appreciative of your neglect
it hides the wool
covering my ears
i stood on a microphone
talked to myself enough
to listen to your performance
it was good, every mic drop
you’ve thrown
has been a fist full of copper
dance as dance can

let’s waltz, let’s pretend
stanzas are seconds
(i’d better have faith, i’d better be better)
i’ll listen to raindrops instead
pour gasoline on fingers
baby, tell me baby again
tell it so
(i’d better have faith, i’d better be better)

i’d rather waltz
tango with water
i’d
rather
waltz
with my own
fingertips.

spring

in a dream she asks me
do you think of him often?
i do. i think of him
in the solemn cradle
of dogwood trees.

and then i watch my daughter
blonde hair smoking and
i want ask if her if she
knows
that i am changing
because i am; i am giving
up on tornadoes.
i am exhausted by their
motion
yet still in lust
with their
unpredictability.

in the same dream
i taste her words
in my throat
still a syrup easy to swallow
but this time
the gag reflex
has taken hold.

i am ready for spring.

be still, wolves

take not of the blood
there’s still a moonshot
yet
how many dreams can we fill
our teeth with
how many times can we tumble
and deny the spill
of bones dried in resistance
children whirring we’re
here, yowling
coyotes denied
waiting baited for lightning
caught in a bottle
and that is the sound
of us standing apart.

out

get it out
every fractured drop
every isotope
of violation
and run.

suervisor

riding in the car
for the first time
i am struck
by the speed and siren
and yes, the gun
he asks, do you know
how many times i
wanted to pull it
but never did?

we stop to eat fried catfish
and memphis listens
maybe we aren’t so
different, i reflect
as cicadas gnaw at the air
but there is still the gun.

i shot guns once, i say
but can’t do it again.
he doesn’t nod. his uniform
presses my ears in turpitude.
you learn what you learn, he says.

back in the car, i call him
my supervisor.
this time, he nods.
that’s good, he says.
i watch the rustle
of tired raindrops
when will this end?