3 Poems

trunks to the navel

not a tooth bruised or brushed

jackknife into tidepool

sharpest barnacle in the ocean

tidal wave took a lover

eyes dangle bloodshot

time for a swimming spree

break surface to flee dolphin

hit shore to outrun tornado

still my spear points backwards

wetsuit moldy

boat only decelerates

teeth chatter shatter

gums peel bleed

gulls chirp malice

we join in

i beg little perch

bite me until

i want to be touched

touch me until

i want to be bit

tuck me in

until I wake to mourn

this nightmare

The buzzard was picking raccoon in the median

when it became the roadkill.

Grampa in his starched shirt tossed it in the trunk of the sedan.

We are going to scare your mother.

I was thinking even buzzard babies are cute

nestling in broken eggshell, hay and twigs,

purple yarn, maybe bear hair.

Then of a buzzard streaking it’s feathers

with human child,

maybe I was lost in the woods,

regurgitated half-digested into their

offspring’s snapping beaks.

Pa crucified the buzzard,

wings nailed to the barn, an eye missing,

bald head sagging as if in prayer for the end of us.

How many piles of our bones

has a satisfied buzzard flapped away from?

Indeed Mom screamed like she’d seen Death.

Do buzzards become cannibals when a buzzard becomes carrion?

Wouldn’t sweet decomposition be a gift?

The buzzard answered,

Burial is not buzzard tradition,

each body is an offering,

the descending swirl of kin is

heaven approaching,

our kind is only beautiful at a distance,

let me see us soaring one last time.

Pa was inside the house with a crossword,

Mom fixing dinner.

My father dropped the carcass in a garbage bag

and I think it went to the dump.

Some small soldier academics thought

they could alter earth and made me

but now I reroute the wind

redirect sunbeam

collect every drop of rain

and mountain stream

like meteor dust

the trees standing at attention

their beasts drawn

by the inner magnetism of thirst

I am no lady

I lap up your spilt beer and urine

swallow your skipping rocks and oars

hear you quietly hump in your tents

caress you myself as you swim me

naked by starlight

And that’s no beach bod

it was made for a lake

Here is my gift in return

a few more feet of shore

I match the aqua green

sky blue of your irises

cure your hangovers

all you need is a rope swing

or a floaty- wedding ring,

flamingo, pizza slice

lose your mind a little

quiet the tyrant in your head

emerge with precision of purpose

And if it is with mud behind your ears

It’s because I was whispering

the secrets of the drowned and living

the forest would rather mute

carried by my stillness

campfire to campfire

each imagining the other more lost

but they are the same troubles

a bit of untruth making every story realer

Or I sing to you

the syllables of thunder

waves smack shale

kindling split

a cicada scream

woodpecker thump

All this you will dream when you’re gone

The dam cracks and I am free

there is no warning mist as

I wash clean every town

along my path

to the sea