They Say
They say that habits cause something new to emerge.
And that cloud looks like Brazil,
And I’m too eager to be liked, which is a weakness,
And singing just requires heart.
But I think there’s more to it than that—you have to use the muscle
Below your rib cage and also hit the note?
I also think I have bigger weaknesses than wanting to be liked,
And from this spot that cloud looks like Greater Houston,
And repetition is the art of tying knots.
Gospels
If you were gone,
I’d still have your words
Like some rough gospels that I’d revere with judgment.
Each of your words would be an apostle,
Remembering the same set of feelings
And miracles
And lessons
From obtuse angles.
Small variations on which human lust and failure rest like frogs.
A series of Rashomon moments
That somehow average out
To what really happened
Between two hearts.
Your Family
Why was there so much heat as your hand touched my child’s head?
Your wrist veins distinct next to your wedding band.
I met your husband;
You both stood on beautiful golden legs.
I wanted to be your marriage.
Not in it, but the substance of it.
You asked if we’d met before.
Your eyelids were heavy.
Your pupils dilated, my optimism grew.
Your child did not obey you but he obeyed me.
