Nude With Pebbles
Flowers fall. And I noticed
before I stood again and folded up the paper and rinsed my cup
their artifice. I myself
was fifty when I murdered, I don’t know.
I’m here to break again my knuckles
or break them back. I’m here
to hate the wall and love especially the contours
of the coast and a city
further south.
For several moments more a deer looked at me
and ate some shrubs. And overhead
a raven
just like ravens do.
You are the shakes
and rhythm. You are the way that you’ve not seen before
that brings you
to yourself
again. A feeling digs you up, and look, the air is hung
with pictures. A nude
with pebbles. A nude with glass. A nude
unwrapping bandages.
The subject is a non-thing. I breathed
the sweetness of the air. Jasmine I could smell
and eucalyptus, olive trees
and cypress, an iron gate.
We are in our robes again, you won’t remember.
You have found
a chicken sandwich. You are plotting out
your day. Maybe you’ll go swimming. The bottom’s
soft and old
and further out
the fields are screaming. Lazy yellow fields of sunflowers
in this dry heat, and you alone out there,
or rather, us.
