TRINKET IX
laughing we would count
out nine chickens
in the dark me
and this girl
from Clinton
I can’t remember
her name but she was
beautiful and working
most nights at Sonic
except for chicken
catching nights
ten dollars
an hour cash plus
twenty every hour
we stayed past eleven
afterwards I’d go home
and check my mother’s vitals
before I got drunk in the shed
I was tired and loved the way
my face felt new under
my fingers when I thought
about the girl
touching it
Ghost Vocals
The tin
covered barn
is a harmonica in the wind.
I go there
to hide. I
come out
to bring momma weeds I think
are flowers.
I kiss her
head like
a butterfly
sucking salt
from a carcass. I look back
wards at her
as I walk out
her room
and see
all my mothers.
I walk through
the cattle shoot
and feel
the same.
Every word
she says
is a glow
at the end of
a hallway
that all these
babies inside
me are crawling toward.
That’s why
I like to go
places where
I can’t find
the light
switches.
It trues me
to feel around where I
can’t find
the light
switches. I like to look in
the dark like
her. When I
get scared
I count
on both hands so I can
talk, and then I touch my
shoulder
and feel
my guts
tremble
like a reed
in the mouth, and then
I am in
the barn
again
twelve
and full
of secrets.
TRINKET VIII
the loneliness you feel
in the garden makes you
suddenly responsible for
the rest of your life
and how it
changes you
is not magnificent
it’s more like
a wish you make
to nail someone’s shoes
to the floor except
they are your shoes
except they are
your father’s
except they are
on your feet when
you look down
and you can’t
stop yourself
from laughing
but when you laugh
everything else
is so quiet
you feel
the need
to stop