Poem #746 – marriage counseling

it smells of rotting things
fruit, once sweet
now propagating flies

get on the ground
crawl there

you must bark
you are not a woman

he doesn’t need to do this
he’s not embarrassed

the therapist and him watch
dignity vampires

let the maggots eat only the dead flesh
until just you exist

Poem #744

giant machines walked above us
but they weren’t our lords
we controlled them with tiny devices
determined to reach the stars

we thought we were big
until they fell on us

Poem #743 – a manageable river

they put her there,
built her concrete body
rolled asphalt into her crown
to hold back the water.

the water crawled with those slithering things:
manic mosquitos breeding disease in the still
depressed rocks displacing water at the bottom

rain for weeks

she digs her concrete fingers into the mountains
on either side

even those slime-covered rocks at the bottom
add weight

her body cracks imperceptibly
water seeps into those hair-thin lines

when the snow comes
ice expands her cracks

they put fish into the deep lake
that she holds back
the fish keep the mosquitos down

no more disease.

years of snow
more rocks have eroded from the nearby mountains
pushing against her crack-riddled concrete body

rain for weeks

the water breaks through her
first: in a spurt
next: an explosion

nothing in the years-dry riverbed survives

Poem #742

the fat man has an eating disorder
late at night when no one else is awake
he takes a box of ice cream cones
a Dreyer’s slow-churned vanilla quart
he eats: 1, 2, 3
he pauses for a minute, he should stop
but the ice cream is going to melt
and he can’t keep his hands from moving
he eats: 4, 5, 6
sick and too full, he passes out

the next day: less than 1,000 calories
two weeks: less than 1,000 calories
he says,
“I can’t give myself an inch”
he’ll take a mile
8 lbs lost
he’s smiling and feeling proud
15 lbs lost
he’s finally in control

then, his legs move on their own
late at night for a week straight
the light of the refrigerator is ghostly on his skin
he pulls out an entire box of ice cream sandwiches
and takes them to his room
an entire pot of leftover spaghetti
a loaf of bread and package of Oscar Mayer bologna
he regrets immediately and passes out
-2 lbs lost

Poem #741 – to my future child

we’re gonna eat green beans and gummy bears
splash in the watery mud after a rain
bundle up for a 20 hour drive to Alaska

I’m gonna tell you how electricity works
the reasons why a budget is necessary
the purpose of air bags and brakes

you’re gonna tell me why you like purple
about the ghost you saw in the middle of the night
how a kid in your class is always talking

we’re gonna giggle while we climb the tree in the yard
argue about the choice of your sock colors
scream as the roller coaster drops

I’m gonna learn how to be patient when you don’t understand
that children are much messier than I thought
why “skinny jeans are so last generation”

you’re gonna learn how to be patient when I don’t understand
when to speak up about what you need
that most things aren’t the end of the world

we’re gonna squeeze each other until someone shouts “uncle”
be equally terrified as you learn to drive
love each other

Poem #740

we started clubs
to feel like we were a part of something
we wanted to be liked
to feel like our contributions of existence were worthwhile
we excluded others
to feel like we were valuable