LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN

 

if i am to be the cow,

drink of me sweetly

​

_____________________________

 

i inquire about your house rules

to put which of us at ease

 

this plan is well thought out 

 

years to days in the making

i no longer count to three before i speak

 

awkward as—

                       or, merely,

                                        raw

 

it has been one year since

i don’t know what i was expecting

this fruition of a minor wildest dream

 

this room is not purple but is soft

your hair & limbs softer still

 

i am beginning to comprehend the urge for marble statues

i study with poor eyesight in half-light

sigh with subsequent disappointment

 

how can there be this satisfaction?

 

my own craftsmanship cannot memorialize this yearning

              consecrated reception of lips defined 

& all i can think is, damn—

              some other sculpture dreamt you first 

 

_____________________________

​

how it happened

 

aware of expulsion,

heartbeat competing with

              there is no reality, actually

 

this crescendo grows louder

 

fascinated, the needle stares

i ride a chariot to make jokes

 

temporary insanity remembers another

house rules: dismount to continue drinking, softly

 

wheat of the goddess explains,

              it’s in the details

 

say the asinine

nothing clean holds water

 

it is as simple as

              let it sink in

 

_____________________________

 

the sculptor’s eye,

              for which my clumsy hands are no match, &

i study unpretentious gracefulness

the cleaning products on your ledge

i have underestimated your work in the details

 

fire oft scorches earth—

              between you & me, that’s crap

 

instead i imagine how it happens

 

bearded barley humidity-soaked hair & garments &

the bluest of bluepink eyes

 

would i those sculptor’s hands

              i would etch this in marble