Then the sisters discovered they were pregnant & each gave birth to a boy on
the same dry September day. The sister with the tattoo of Joe Frazier bought
every bit of baby blue in the city & countryside for her son & dressed him in a
new outfit twice an hour. The sister with eyes like two bowls of black bean soup
bought every children’s book ever written, & began reading them nonstop as
soon as her son grew ears.

The sons said they just wanted music.

How often do you hear the tenderness you need to hear? I mean exactly when
you need to hear it? Is it ever before that little yolk of hurt wraps itself in layers
hard enough to break teeth?

The sister with the overbite asked the sister with bullet in her hip, “Do we even
remember how to sing? ”They had not spoken to each other in several years so
they’d forgotten the sound words made fluttering between them. Then the son
with the bucket head smiled at the son with elephant ears & the sisters’
scratchy, awkward gospel began to unravel & crawl across the room.

II. A Gram of &s

II. A Gram of &s

abductor

abductor

Because I cannot correct my name. Because the boat
docks each night in the bay & the board-

walk creaks beneath women eager to tour
their dreams. Because I cannot court
the maiden. I am the actor

without a face. In a few seconds I will doubt
your love. I will spill vodka on the birthday card,
the wedding gloves. Because I cannot cart

the goodness from door to door, nor wait on the curb
of bad intentions. Because I cannot coat

my tongue in whispers, I take to the road.

although

although

In spite of & otherwise. The way you halt.

The notwithstanding. The hula-
hoop of albeits. The way you haul
doubt around, your smile on auto-
pilot, the Halo-
maker’s laugh
thundering above you. The way you ought
to go but fail to. The oath
you were told to take. The can’ts & thou
shan’ts declared by your Lord-In-A-Toga.

The way more & more, He begins to gloat.

ambulance

ambulance

Some fool ignores the manual Accompanying his sparkling ACME

Chainsaw. Or maybe someone orders spoiled cube Steak from a diner menu.

Or can’t refuse his twelfth shot of Jim Beam. Whatever the case, those who balance

Mercy on a gurney of red & blue Light will come to the rescue. One medic able

To juggle bags of blood while his partner zigzags the fast lane. The ghosts of your grandparents will lean

Above you asking your name, but you won’t have a clue.

apothecary

apothecary

Where we’re told they
House the Panacea Theory.
Where they get inside the mystery ache
& prescribe a therapy
That needs no pray-
Er. You’d like to be indestructible like the roach
So you follow the path
To the one some say will be able to hector
Your despair. Or at least take care
Of the dry patch
Of skin around your heart.

beckoned

beckoned