It's not only the word roses lurking inside neurosis or the fact that most of my formal education occurred in the midwest, so too my summer job inhaling industrial reactants should be considered. It's an unstable world, babe. Always an inner avalanche as they say in receiving. I'm sure if I'd gotten a shot of Karl instead of Zeppo Marx in utero, things would have turned out differently. Instead, my mother went right on eating lobster. But where were we? . . .
Could Have Danced All Night
The wolf appointed to tear me apart
is sure making slow work of it.
This morning just one eye weeping,
a single chip out of my back and
the usual maniacal wooden bird flutes
in the brain. Listen to that feeble howl
like having fangs is something to regret,
like we shouldn’t give thanks for blood
thirst. Even my idiot neighbor backing out
without looking could do a better job,
even that leaning diseased tree or dream
of a palsied hand squeezing the throat but
we’ve been at this for years, lying exposed
on the couch in the fat of the afternoon,
staring down the moon among night blooms.
What good’s a reluctant wolf anyway?
The other wolves just get it drunk
then tie it to a post. Poor pup.
Here’s my hand. Bite.