“I’m Stepping Up in Singing Sandals, No Use…

The eye’s desire for relief.

I’m the tiger lily bobbing in the heat.

And also the neighbor, shaved bald and

lifting weights on the balcony. Each petal

is the receipt of a shameful dream—

a thought we hadn’t wanted to incorporate

lolling from my parted mouth.

But you know it’s mistakes that make life happen.

A cardboard suitcase of beer for the traveler.

And if we get too close to the words

on this page they soften and warp

into an animal lace, some net

whose logic won’t reveal itself. I pull our eyes

back because I love you. But then you draw them

back further still because that sounds like an excuse.

The whiny version of Love Hurts loops and curls

like ribbon through a scissor, being pulled

across the blade. The money in this poem’s

easy, if you don’t mind having no thoughts and

sitting in one place, while your body changes shape.

Source: PoetryNow (2018)