Tuesday, September 3, 2013
I want to free all the candles
A sparrow with a broke wing
outside the door versus walking beneath a
row of trees filled with flittering sparrows.
Both were part of that day the hay stacks
were draped in blue blankets in the fields,
they asked can the cows keep up, can we
milk them smarter, turn their shit
into electricity if the milk doesnt obey?
It was that day-- day I fed the dog
her vitamin, carried a full bucket
of yellow corn to the deer house, watched
for the wave
of its flicking, white tail.
It was the weekend I came
home with blisters
in my mouth, chigger bites
on my breasts, laid hawk feather
on the dash of my car. I found
a rusted apple beneath the seat.
It was the week I pulled the nails out
of the blue carpet that you never said,
If you make it to the end with scars-- a toe
missing, you've lived well.
You said instead I'd need to replace
your mother's candle-- the one
that melted that summer
onto the table outside, the whiteone youd kept on the mantle for looks.