19
Cripple
I plant my
Ass in the sand
And dig in my toes.
My suit jacket is
Hung on a rock
And my boots are scattered,
Socks like white tongues
Hanging from their mouths.
There’s a boy
Running up and
Down the beach
Throwing rocks at
Pigeons and seagulls.
The sky is a bloated
And smoldering grey.
I want to reach up
And drag my fingers
Through the
Cottony gluttons looming
Over me and disembowel them
So I can drown.
But they just
Drag their fat
Across the top
Of my head.
I hear the
Snap of a twig
And the pillow fluffing
Sound of beating wings as
Pigeons and gulls
Fill the air like
Back–peddling confetti.
“I’m sorry”
The boy looks at me
“I really didn’t mean to.”
To his left
A pigeon flutters
In sputtering circles
Broken wing grounded
Leaving little dashes
In the sand.
I shrug my shoulders
Noticing how
The breeze from the
Passing clouds
Lifts his bangs
Like feathers
I taste in my teeth
Coffee–ground words
For the boy;
I tell him
To find
A heavy rock
The two halves of Patience: 1 — Kimchee and rice Korean,
2 — Hodge–podge pot luck of white genes.
Patience lives in Seattle with her two daughters
that she is convinced are midget aliens from a distant planet
come to test the human capacity for selective hearing
and the ability to keep a straight face while being tickled.
All drivers in Washington state will be happy to know her license
has recently been suspended for unpaid tickets
resulting from numerous traffic violations.
