my country
there it is, my country
of blood
and floor-wax
behind the counter where blue candy in
bottles
and butterfly dresses
and high-heels hover
the table lamp with its one eye
my woman
draped on
the chair with thighs
like paper my woman with country road deserted
hip of bending road no more no more
my country with gun and gelatin
there it is, my country
of doorstops and darlings
musk and muscle
waiting for the dark skin to unfurl
pinned
to the sky yet even
even so sharp and scaled with love
but even even
there it is, my country
folded legs
and hands and eyes
in pocket with tissue paper
in pocket with spare button sweaty hand
my country, in cash
exchanged for candy and kerosene
over the
counter for wealth and loving
loving loving loving
my country exchanged for loving
but loving never
brought me
enough |
