the
tyranny of ice cream trucks
serenade
me with closed shades
and the hushed velvet
I
wrap myself with today
with drawn curtained quiet raining
let
me explain
the
first day of school
as
something other than
a
selfish wonderful
and
all I would be doing
is
thumbing through
the
dictionary for ways
to
lie to you about it
no
getting around
the
peace of September
with
its odd tropical reaches
and
the tannin deaths of leaves
breaching
the cool cling of moisture
along
the burning and bleeding
heavy
yellowed skin tufting itself
under
the lengthening nights
no
I don’t mind saying
yes
it’s quiet now
and
the katydids
have
lowered themselves
from
the tops of trees
and
into the seed-headed rapture
of
the tall grass weeping
in
a steep luxuriously slow decline
these
insects know
to
bow the orchestral clock of wind
for
the great wheel’s turn
at
the entirety of the southern edges
of
the northern forests
is
emptying its souls
in
order to dye itself
in
the color of wombs again
deep
dark lust
wanting
roots
dreaming in thin fiber strengths
and
the very thought
of
being inside someone
willing
their bones
into
the electricity
we will mine the keys with strings
and
all the intricate carves
that
gravity rings out
in
a swollen belly repose
steaming the kitchen windows
with something bubbling
and
spitting on the hearth
EJR
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