In Absentia*

Gnats dance, seen
in the absence that follows
their leaps, in the unblotched
halo around the pine.

I could count the gnats
as an abbess would angels
on the head of a pin,
releasing the sheen of brass.

Is this how I see you?
—archaic, a riddle
schooling a disciple
in vision's holy way.

In absence, the gnat's
unreflective mass
becomes the shine;
in absence, I see

you, archival,
clear as after-
thought,
not here.
*From What Space This Body (Wind Publications, 2008)

Boxwood

So much stink from the shine
of leaves. Cat pee. Oakmold

under the rainspout. Twigs
pokey, into your skin,

red balloons rising when
boxwood pricks you. Nicer

than doctor who sticks needles
into fingertips and

wipes the blood so fast you
can't look at what is

in you. Don't crawl in
the boxwood, them say.

You'll poke out your eyes.
Not listening. Listening

to the leaf snap in two,
pee smell in your nose,

leaves brushing your wrists,
behind ears and knees where

Mommy touches herself
with toilet water. Them not

liking its stink at all,
you keeping them at bay.

Dolly

Singing there where doctor puts
the chest thing on your chest

and ear things in your ears
do you want to listen?

Open wide doctor says.
But dolly's mouth’s shut tight

bad girl! Where's her open?
By her private place where

you can pull her legs out
and put pebbles in, one

two three and listen.
Acorn twig, twig sweet pea.

What's food for inside singing?
Pink is girls and roses.

Lilies

Breathing lily like petals
in your head. Sweet so thick,

you take it in like fishes
breathing, necks slit open—

it won’t hurt—where water
flows in like air until

the tails stop swishing and
you flush them down the toilet.

All gone. Bonnie from school
gone into an iron

lung when lungs inside her
couldn't breathe. Baby, gone

from Mommy's belly. Mommy
in her room alone, blinking

like light was bad. Waiting
for your turn, head heavy

hiding under lilies
watching kids on scooters

playing cowboys. Eyes stuck
open, why won’t they shut?

Praying to Our Lady
let me get up, let me

up, never knowing
will you walk again.