SWEAR

If this time the eggs don't break,
freckling the sidewalk with yolk splatter,
coating the coffee and the paper towels,
dripping all over my white shoes,
I will never again swing the groceries
back and forth all the way home from the store,
singing and jumping the puddles,
until the bag hits my thigh and I hear
something inside of it crack.

THE DAY I ALMOST KILLED MYSELF

It was afternoon and the razor
reflected the sky like like a mirror. The bath towels
were white like the bathtub and my wrists
were white like the towels.

The bathwater got lukewarm.
The afternoon turned into late
afternoon and I was still pulling ropes of air
into my lungs like a sailor. The razor reflected
the sunset. The bathwater got cold.

The bath towels were white like the bathtub
and my wrists were white like the towels.

The truest poetry is the most feigning;and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetrymay be said, as lovers, they do feign.

They give me leftovers to feed the chickens, and then I give them eggs. They say that taking an early morning walk down a back road and hearing our rooster crow is one of the greatest things about living in the country.

Tis hatched and shall be so

Some guy hit my fender, and I told him, 'Be fruitful and multiply,' but not in those words.