Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Meg Pokrass


The guy called Taco,
his T-shirt
said Hazardous Roosters
loved skinny dipping,
bagged tangerines from his tree
that night we made for

Lake Cachuma,
his eyes tipping up,
long tadpoles-
a scar glowing a moon
around his belly.
How'd you do that? I asked

"now,"(he said laughing)
ladling water,
with my high pink heels.

Dr. V.

My foot is darker than the ocean.
It's turned blue - He promises
to stop the pain and I picture

him in a world
of shark's egg sacs,
he rolls them toward me-
unbreakable promises,
and there is nothing
to do but keep them warm.

When he calls
he sounds tired, blue gauze
covers his telephone voice.
I want to soothe him,
but that's not my role.

Bones and blue cartilage,
I can't help shivering,
picturing his office-
the sterile needle
between my toes
like a gift.

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