you are

one of the more lovelier sounds.

i find these days,

i can replicate you if i close my ears enough:

the clash of my spoon with the ice cream bowl,

the kiss my lighter leaves on the body of a candle,

The sculptor unveiled a block

A block of marble bought with the

Cents, dollars, kept under lock

Kept under a lock and key.

The sculptor went home again

while rain and lightning poured from skies

Stepped upon the midnight train,

                                                                                  SCENE 1

The cold gross floors
Stomp, stomp, stomp
Black tiny spaces
In shoes that stink
Im confined for hours upon hours
The rigid concrete tears holes in me
get lost in the bed sheets
The last thing to be grabbed from the bathroom floor

What is a body but a cardboard box
smoothed over with wrapping paper?
A shiny exterior that beckons eager eyes,
and a sheen spiral of store-bought ribbon.

i have my father’s temper, my father’s eyes.
i keep my bloody birthrights in a clear glass jar.
all the things i’ve laid claim to with my mother’s fingers;
long, pale, five on each hand, like real people have.

After Jericho Brown

Like a good fisherman, I read the water.

I can’t afford to miss a ripple in the current.

            Past and future form ripples in the current,

            whirling turned leaves in a merciless circle.