April hit our house like a shit storm. Honestly, I could have done without it. Every time I logged onto blogger I saw the poem about Tiberius and felt like crying; but look, it's the day before the fullest moon of 2012 and my best friend's birthday is tomorrow. This month, Mel and I have been fostering a little puppy we named Temperance Brennan (yes, that Tempie) and have had our hands full. Her presence has induced insomnia and a fear of puppy teeth in proximity to nice grown-up shoes that I can't afford to replace.
I'm kind of bummed that, once again, life got away from me and I didn't focus on my writing; but I'm nothing, if not a stubborn, tenacious fucker. Someday I hope to win an award for these qualities.
This cotton aura sticks to the thick night
it wraps the moon in a tight papoose, with
each inhale, clouds catch against the throat
with each breath, too-soon June bugs vie
for a place against the curving, naked back
of the porch light. Their wings hiss.
Dig into this glass, ice languishing in
the humidity, water slick against the neck
Morning was a year ago, of pink sheers stuck
to blinds and you kissed me awake and made lunch.