Portrait of the X

Epicanthic eyes and brows that peak,

that point to a grey-streaked tangle.

Cat anger, quick spitting, sharp

drives her car blindfolded, singing.

Small hands, inkstained, and nails cut down, cut back, cut short.

Rolling lust and the clenched gasp of desire

pulls the weeds in a garden of peas and lilac.

Walking, toes pointed out and hips rolling like roadside warnings,

fatigued pleasure and indolent joy

washes her pots and pans, singing.

Girl At A Window Cleaning Squid

(for amjp)

one hundred, one thousand,
they slip blue grey pearlescent
through her fingers
quick practiced fingers
still baby fat but flying a knife
through squid bodies
endless buckets of dead squid

and the light,
if indeed there were light,
might seem to bend itself toward her hands
and they shine, they glisten
her hands
and the knife
and the bodies of squid