stars are weapons you can’t wield

if stars are
weapons
if
they are
I am the slave bent over
to spoon moonlight
from the milkiest blades
of grass.

I left my tongue once
lapping at the
corners of his calf or I would
use it now to lick light
from the warm crook
of earth's lap.

love song sung in key of grim

Gutted
by my search
for the intimate other;

i mistake intimacy for aliens,
who don't cut my throat

but know many pink ways
to upend my species.

horses stand in the rain

I do an internet search for you
to see if our names come up
….married 2012...two kids…buried side by side
he was a bush pilot, she an unpublished poet by design
her last years spent on hands and knees
listening
the birds around her
all had scratchy throats
he mechanized their laundry
shoot and did the dishes six
days out of ….
In time she started to iron his shirts
horses could stand
very still for hours even in the rain
she was not going to be outdone
by something with nostrils like that
and no hard feelings….
I Google you and every time your name gets
mentioned …there is no word about either of
us. not one word about how you feel.

the little paper airplane of our phone conversation

the little paper airplane of our phone conversation
takes swooping dives into predictable low brick walls,
erected by permanent paper dolls
your breath and deep voice tug at my
ear while the paper dolls dance it from above
and cross the strings.
they sail my ear through tangled winds
lean it too far in,
then cackle as the water looms.
meanwhile I am trying to hear you
amidst these heartless recyclables--
out to enjoy their temporariness
while we grow fixed and serious,
convinced we are solid and therefore
owed.

i woke to the sound of rain

I woke to the sound of rain and so,
ran out of my house to see if I could find
the rain's opinion
of itself
or anything,
or where it began,
or what, if, deeply,
anything.

I ran all day
into the evening and yet
it came to me while lying down
(as the day began to blur before my eyes)
while sure, I had not discovered the size or shape
of anything,
I felt certain now the
imprecise angle of
everything.