Friday, July 31, 2009

Losing My Hedge

1.

The first and second time,

the wind blew and your hair

wandered into your mouth.


Those times, all things

considered, the sun was still

warm, and you, ready to pounce

who and what, not me.


Third time: sat across from me,

a little to the left, back

hunched, almost a crouch,


spoke curses and ill;

left a sweet taste in my mouth.


2.

We are the sick ones;

pebbles on our tongues and guns

under their chins, darling.


We are the predators;

forcing the blessings and favors

to save us from them, darling.


Write us in the books

among the saviors and crooks

because they are the ill ones, darling.

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