Hungry Bride

What if, dizzy and low on sugar,

walking down the aisle, you get

overwhelmed by all you can’t

have – not the groomsmen

with their puckish smiles, not

the sweat of the neighbor’s body,

jogging in polyester shorts at 6 am,

or gathering fallen branches

from his yard late evening,

stopping to lift his cap and

wipe his brow? What if you’re

about to spend your life making

gallons of sweet tea and love,

and only one man holding out

a glass to you?

He’s already

downed your first pour in a gulp,

the ice settled loud and hollow,

now you tilt the pitcher again.

What flows out of you as you

reach the altar, your groom

well hydrated and still thirsty,

the preacher smiling like to

eat you alive?

Punch and Judy

He keeps a swazzle in his mouth,

rage with a flourish, twist the words

if they don’t win over. That’s the way

to do it. If I’m a sharp-tongued woman,

I carved it on my teeth, biting back

bashings in favor of keep-love.

All day I’m punch-drunk, but at

night, the ceiling's dark stage

waits for us: clown-grimace

characters, a baby, a stick.

We kiss and dance, then

fight again. My puppets; I win.

What's this poem about? Ask me.

God curses creeping things

1 Then the Lord cursed the serpent

to crawl on its belly, eat dirt.

And Adam was satisfied, but

felt a question start inside him.

2 The serpent said Revenge

and smiled, sliding by. Man

was learning the ways of God.

3 Later, God gave more laws,

marked more abominations:

snake, turtle, salamander,

mouse, weasel, mole.

4 Adam watched a hare,

uncloven, unclean,

tuck into the brush

of the forest to forage.

He thought of Eve, made

from dust. He considered

that when he looks for God,

he always looks up.