You Make Love Like the Last Snow Leopard
You make love like the last
snow leopard. Time hunts your shadows.
Your grooves dip a real x of an arc.
I love your shadow. It’s performance on the wall.
Your white hair flocked. It’s old age that makes
you kill for food. You bring a long blank to
bed in, the weight draws out.
You need someone with skill for the excursion.
Ride through the reservoir of sour peaches.
Your name meanders through the grass. Tall
people are in the way. I crowd surf to get to you.
You spill me into the flood. Water rushes out your sides.
You make a mystery of playing political love.
I could kill for you. I’d bring you an eagle stuffed
with finches. It’s pouch growing large and groaning
in your palm. A cliff of umbrellas and memory
shaping your every move.
|Jun 22, 2014||Lunch at a City Club||Stephen Vincent Benét|
|Jun 21, 2014||To America||James Weldon Johnson|
|Jun 20, 2014||Love in the Morning||Annie Finch|
|Jun 19, 2014||valentine for Sally Hemings||Sojourner Ahebee|
|Jun 18, 2014||With Passing Wonder I Notice the Tracks of an Animal||David Biespiel|
|Jun 17, 2014||Life’s Ironies||Jane Miller|
|Jun 16, 2014||What Are They Doing in the Next Room||Bruce Smith|
|Jun 15, 2014||My Father's Hats||Mark Irwin|
|Jun 14, 2014||Habit||Hazel Hall|
|Jun 13, 2014||Rite de Passage and the Irony of the Sharpshooter||John Kinsella|