Selected Poems
Nuts and Bolts
Meeting her in a late morning dream
found her on a kitchen counter, seeing eye to eye
as if she craved a final piece of food during famine
or desperate for drink during drought. She wanted to trade.
There is always a childhood game, a work bench barter.
The aggravation at the dwindling clock. A hop, skip and jump in
just concentrate on shapes and probe at pretend wounds.
Because if the buzzer sounds, it could all go, kerplunk.
Maybe it was leather made her look tougher
Was her hair turned loose? Did her hands gnaw at my chest?
Or was it the scrunch and squeal of holding her?
Who kissed who, made no difference, when I awoke.
I sat up, scanned the room, felt the bed, checked windows,
locks and pants pockets, but something had gone missing.
In this square rough-cornered hole was found a rounded
peg traded and placed perfectly, to fill this empty space.
found her on a kitchen counter, seeing eye to eye
as if she craved a final piece of food during famine
or desperate for drink during drought. She wanted to trade.
There is always a childhood game, a work bench barter.
The aggravation at the dwindling clock. A hop, skip and jump in
just concentrate on shapes and probe at pretend wounds.
Because if the buzzer sounds, it could all go, kerplunk.
Maybe it was leather made her look tougher
Was her hair turned loose? Did her hands gnaw at my chest?
Or was it the scrunch and squeal of holding her?
Who kissed who, made no difference, when I awoke.
I sat up, scanned the room, felt the bed, checked windows,
locks and pants pockets, but something had gone missing.
In this square rough-cornered hole was found a rounded
peg traded and placed perfectly, to fill this empty space.
