Pearlescent Omnivore
I wonder whether you’ve
seen the toads cringe down between
the mower blade and the lawn
waiting it out—the undercarriage of
Hades, down and down, double-decker
danger with Elysium wavering purple
in the exhaust plume. What the menacing
blades can do, unswerving pathos, toad
mucosity, skin sensitized like a chilled
testicle enervating. Exposure pulling
its taffy tenderly close. Hold an idiot’s
vigil at the window, eyeball the Lawn Man.
How can he be both recalcitrant and
predatory? He keeps merciless,
ambivalent track of his cuts.
Decorative elements in his green
striped wallpaper, we’re left,
in the end, a terrified toad,
an idiot in the window.
Trailhead
Insidious and greedy, the Norway Maples
must be razed—
what’s fledgling must be guarded,
the sign implies.
What’s manifest must be tended. What wants
warmth finds a way.
As the spider in our bed whose bite
woke me and sent me to the bathroom
to turn on the light.
As: the medicine cabinet soliloquy,
I’m not imagining this.
As: the head-scratching return to bed.
As: I saw it
on the mattress curled, playing dead, until
I turned on the lamp and it scurried over the edge.
With the lights on, I see another bite on my ribs.
That must be the first bite—.
Just as I thought. What was the first is the second,
subcutaneous, red.
Lawnmower on grass photo courtesy Shutterstock.
