The breathy tone. Her voice singing out. Her
Soul so close to another. Pressed against
Her breast. Tightly caressing the warmth of
Skin on skin. The way she stares in her
Eyes. Pillowing head in arms. The way they
Breathe together releasing, bringing hearts
Back in unison. The sultry rocking
Of a mother comforting her child.
Primal calls of need only heard only
Understood by one other in the same
Moment. Nothing but two held there by the
Gravity of their love. One become two.
None know, but the pull to bring in life. To
Be mother. To be all that fills the earth.
The yellow sky and blue white hills that rose
In the autumn of the earth. The cold and
Sometimes snow of the Smoky Mountains kept
Out the tears when looked on in a certain
Eye. The old man’s spitting years sputtered through
Like cleaning up. Like the skin from a dead
Snake, he pealed the bark of the mulberry,
A fiber to weave his back while also
Staying Cherokee in the November season.
He made his time in the casino to
Trade drink for play and wondered if this should
Be life to rob the weak to pay the poor.
To pay the weak to rob the poor. To pay
The cowboy to see the Indian play.
Ever the cuckold. Ever the man in the horned
Helm standing in public protest of him-
Self. The long raking scrape off self-scourging.
The deep clean slice of a limber switch on
A naked thigh. The ache of walking in
To find another enthralling her. The
Pain felt good, for he had to self the soul.
But that was beside the point. Beside the
Intense blue of close cropped hair. The metal
Rings pierced through. And the black painted lips. All
Aggressively feminine in all the
Wrong ways. He had wanted another try
At whatever she turned down. To be strong.
To be masculine. To be in control.
Dressing your kill on your knees. The last leaf
Falls. The story ends. Your wood shed. A roofed
Pile that you built. Old pallets, scrap wood,
And an angled flat roof you covered in
Left over scraps of tile. Your cabin.
Warm from your seasoned wood. It had been her
Present to you. Or your present to you.
Your dream. Your refuge from her. From never
Ending shitfits. Angry that you cooked your
Own meals. Angry that you invited her
To eat. Angry. And why? Because of your
Mannerisms. Because her father did
Something. Once, before you knew her. Something
Like nothing you had done. Blame without end.
You dress your kill in
The forest bathing in blood
Up to the elbows.
The bear is brother,
And all the world is a stage.
You have killed Caesar.
Choking out the rules
With the blood pooling in his
Lungs. He lies breathless.
The booger picker
Stretching longer than ether.
Bringing forth pumpkins.