the Nixionary

comes over unexpectedly
her arrival a herald of her heavy confidence.
When a doctor made her next knee
out of metal and socket,
I left a bag with chocolate,
a magazine, a note scrawled out hastily in her driveway
with portents of get well soon, keep occupied,
nurse your new joint like it were your own.
She, of all, knows how—adopted a son
who [...]

Weird. And what are you?
Folding everything important
except liquid, drenched
with inopportune sweat,
ten digits
like a phone number,
seizing like talons
though we don’t
necessarily find
our own food
or anything really
to hold onto.
My grandma
used mine to
clasp her bra
behind her shingled back,
asked if I could
tie her shoes
when her knuckles
turned to knobs.
These pointed things
on our twisty wrists
are performances
of young and love
and young love.
You can [...]

There are too many kids on the corner to count—
I watch their mothers before the block is awake.
Drug deals play out their beat:
the reticent shuffling song of my street.
A thinskin
sunken cheek creature
preludes her
emaciated mate.
Sometimes the container is a Lean Cuisine box.
Sometimes a too transparent bag.
One woman whistles.
The other’s feet meet her,
like a drumroll, hurtling slowly,
in [...]

we had a water-logged dog
and six chickens
on the road to
burly country men, button-downed,
who bought us shots in Nashville.
we laughed, the levees held,
the morning felt like an index finger
tapping on the wet window
and then the whole wall
was in my mouth.
I don’t really remember
the popped tire,
just the trail of the boat in rearview,
swerving like it would have [...]

So dirty.
Sludge on every rim like chocolate frosting.
It’s not my fault there is an unwrapped condom on the bench next to me.
No one comes near.
They all make eye contact.
One woman says, sneering, “Are you serious?”
I eat salty chips out of a bag.
I’m not serious or kidding.
I didn’t put it there.
I feel guilty
for being able to [...]