I Heard You the First Time
I’m drinking & the room is drinking
gray sky into the ground. Gray sky
& you smolder like a paper lantern,
the terrible glow in which we heed
half our minds. Terror isn’t brutal
exactly, some tree in fear of degree.
In fact, you glow astoundingly sober
where I’m thinking of John Wayne
on fire, hunger inside the hayhouse
& two sticks rubbing in a matchbox.
I am drinking & I find despair again
flashing whitened teeth, whispering
sweet promises for the light ahead.
I want to timber your effects on me.