Today's poem is by Shelly Taylor


When proxy all night I poured Jack into

the morning. Heat makes the dogs heave

on the porch, blue the roof

to dissuade dirt daubers from home-making—

& ramshackle that which keeps him well-nourished,

High Life, his Redbreast. Hourglass round

the steakhouse, if I started up again no one could

keep me from trying, all night a rodeo, all morning

rye grass, water to paw I could roll into your body

to keep me safe not sage, but the longing,

the still of incomprehension, the bottles from

the speedrack I drove off another night bruised legs &

G Straited myself right again, all Jäger down my arms,

whiskey arms & all over my britches, you could

punch the eye of. A homemade mother

never washing dishes, such gentle hands, nutshells

across the floor, left your boots that lasted

three tours to the monsoon, mama,

her boy, my boy, her dissolute sadness.

Copyright © 2011 Shelly Taylor All rights reserved
from Black Warrior Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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