he takes a fist full of boiled peanuts
brown juice swelling under his fingernails
regally goes to work sucking out the pale meat

When I turn into twigs now/my sap dives deeper/and the claps/clap louder

The woman who’s dating my daughter’s boyfriend has feathers tied to the laces of her boots, and trundles off with him down the long stairs to the street.

you go through the wash stages
the final rinse stage feels like
absolution after going to
Confession
where the priest absolves you of all sin
and your soul feels brand spanking new

their stubby fingers trace
the zippers
of my C-section scars
I tell them they are my seahorse tots
sprung from my belly slits

There’s scent of
blood in the barn
where someone
hung my prize
hog upside down

My earliest memory is of crawling to the edge of a cliff
and seeing nothing but pink and blue clouds beneath me
spreading so thick and solid they looked capable of holding me.

In college, I stole shrimp and celery for Mother’s Day. A grocer asked if I paid for the groceries in my bag. “Yes,” I lied.

The warm water
like fingers
gently kneading
my knots of sorrow

Every boy and girl can toss a knee-buckler for a strike on a 3-2 count, hit in the clutch, and launch fastballs beyond the city borders with an Adirondack Ash