Tuesday, February 2, 2010

The Rape of Cactus

Give me a porcupine,
a blow fish,
a jelly bean
and a baptized rabbit for the operating table.

Have Genghis Khan removed from the surgery   
rotation, so I can butcher skins; peel them back
and unite them as sentimental crawling cloth. 
  
Stop inserting crazy straws as heart valve stents,
Stop assuming the vibration of jackhammers are orgasms,
Stop marking faded scars in the birthday calendar,
Stop resting your head against hollow pillows.

Stop thinking I read your poetry
                  and hold tightly the greenly stitched coat I've mended…for you. 
                   
So twist your shadow of its confidence and mop water
and rig the full to capacity, flat tire U-haul
to your tendons.  
                         Now listen to the hymn of dragging hubcaps
                         cut tracks into solid ground.
WARNING:
Learn from
the cactus's haircut,
the blunted shears
and pile of prickles…





So you can stop believing







that I'd let you love me.