In Which We Ask, Exist
       

Light chews on the patio
or could
a jawbone of light invents a countenance
to settle its valley, to climb scalp-ward
a jawbone of light exposes the whole
pitiable face
juts out over some poor domain
some poor dark domain
I've taken a bar into my thought
borrowed thoughts
barred my better thoughts
thought better of
doing that one thing

The patio wears braces of light
to right itself
a sting singing light
throttling the throat of darkness
straddling and riding the darkened throat
spur to flesh, reins ripping up
the soft floor of some hands

I want to speak into the library door
and enter—to speak the library into existence
to pick the speck of book off a tongue
to tongue an exit
to enter and leave simultaneously
I want I want I want

If a couch scalps the room
we are follicles growing from it
loosening and scattering
being picked up by someone
and tossed aside
the way of boats
in the narrative
of the worst storm

Hold the struggling bird in your ear
Hold its struggle away from its body
Take the bread tie from the sack of bread
the hunger from the feeding
the hunger from the feeling

Let us sit inside the weather
Let us be a slice each
going bad
inside this bag of weather
the rain has forgotten about
failing to eat us
We will grow new things
gross things
and they will be beautiful
you will be beautiful in the gross light
growing from me
from the grocery of light
make your purchase
in the aisle of light
pursue me

Or simply to make one purr with a light touch
to use our hands
to wear our hands in an outdated style
of kindness
bang always above the eye
A head bruised by wood
A heart bruised by what would

Eye the bird struggling against the grate
soot-body ash-body panic-animated
Exhaust yourself
please exhaust yourself
little punctuation mark of
bird that is ending me

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Copyright © 2014 Kristi Maxwell All rights reserved
from That Our Eyes Be Rigged
Saturnalia Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission