An almost herb but
The Glass Menagerie
Phoenix, a moment just outside the Heard
Museum of American
Indian Art and History.
Just because of May.
Wonder that wrinkled grass and clovers
tapered not
cut but just under feet of snow---
my baby claws at them and the Earth doesn't mind
doesn't moan
just stands.
Oil. Pads of feet touch the wooden floor
again
the freezer banks at my first job 21 years ago
---banana ice cream hairspray---
and Lilac Wine groping in the dark bathroom
---new carpet air conditioning---
beauty school oil massage deep into knuckles, chatting
away like there's no skin, bones in our hands
again.
AHH---too much midwestern fever
screaming birds wow it's still dawn
because of May.
Share something from a can---
the dresser facing us from the back of the pick-up has a face etched---
pass the drink back and forth
manic laze---
---there was a half dream
while the baby was talking one hand
to the other hand---micro-waving fingers
make expressive faces
and her voice low and serious---deedle deedle-torh
and I heard a half dream about a girl's
hell being forever in the mill.
Thick and sudden May---
forever mill---
herbs in our bones
skins in our hands.
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