My Time By Your Window
I drew a lady's figure
from behind
stacking two hearts
straight bones for legs
in the middle of a page.
Our first time
I poured over you with zen control.
You breathed in long shivering
draws
a lioness hit on safari
slowly going down
Forearms could not hold me
up to the light of your small fire.
We huddled close cramped in the overhead room
where you asked me to do it.
From your window
I saw my first owl,
my first robbery,
heard my first shoot-out
somewhere near the river.
Gutted
Two apostles on the inlet
wading for mullet to migrate near
where our toes sink and each step
clouds the cold water.
A school happens like a fistful of dimes
thrown from a child's hand
in a hundred blue angles of silver light.
The net slings out from his hip.
From gathered it opens a nylon cage
falling like a mother ship over the water.
A slice of me longways
regrets the live bait
chunks, pods, soft insides
left behind with plastic jugs
stove-in on the sand.
By noon i'm adjusted;
hooked in the jellied eye
with the red drum gone to paste-
tacky skin in the dry cooler.
His slashing white-diamond teeth,
his whole head for the hefty bag.
