I found a couple bogus hands
Lying under a tree in the woods.
I had been walking for a while
Listening to the sounds I made
As I tapped the tree mushrooms
I call the bookshelves of the woods.
The hands looked new and peculiar.
I poked one and then the other,
And finding both suitably clean,
I decided to take one home.
The other I left for the future,
To another such as myself.
Categories: jonathan tosch
It is neither your tongue nor thigh
For which I long
But your singsong sigh
It is the sweetness of milk
The bone whiteness
Under freckled sinew
The plumping of peaches
Pluck!
Not consummation
But the giggling, the slurps, the untied shoe
the hand fidgeting with the cabinet knob
a thumbprint on our white wall
The memory of it
the downiness of teeth
on the tree
solid-soft and dew-dappled
suspended in light and air-
I can’t get at you
Are you there when our children flutter their eyelids just before sleep?
Listen to the pit-less wind whoosh!
Fill me up.
Categories: michael carolan
