Friday, August 26, 2011

What I am afraid of

The space between the hedge
and the house. Steep slopes
and spiders. What you murmur
yes to in your sleep.  Dead bolts
and dead batteries. Hour glass
shapes and the way sand moves
through small spaces. Waiting,
and waiting. The carcass with teeth,
the beach the day my tire blew.
The intangibility of these cells,
the gusto of my body’s body.
Mostly, how you sometimes look
at me and I have to look away.