NINE PATERNAL POEMS

LAMB // STIMULANT WEEKLY NEWSLETTER 025

LAMB “NINE PATERNAL POEMS”

YOU ASK IF I THINK 
WE ARE READY FOR CHILDREN

We would be disturbed to know
how many snakes surround us.
In the woodpile asleep, running
mammal holes beneath the house.
Reverse habitats and find perhaps
there are more snakes than birds.
See them nesting twisted in the maples?
Hear that morning song of tongues?
We should rake them all into one
hole to wash with gasoline and torch
until ash falls so thick upon the lawns,
they have to close the schools.
We would swan the motley leaves
without a thought for what they hide.

YOU ASK WHERE I THINK
WE SHOULD RAISE CHILDREN

where boredom is the rule
no sneeze is stifled

in the vigilante urge
to free a captive whale
the smooth dorsal collapse

we’ll learn each other there
then unlock the door for them

ANIMAL SOUNDS

I’m going to carry you to bed.

   Faded, he hears only darkness as I
   Speak, the father of my wife whose
   wife died in the same bed, in the exact
   green sheets from which he fell and
   crawled to the study, somehow pulled
   himself into the seat where we found
   his pink arms running apely to the floor.

What medications have you taken?

   We’d been reading, my daughter and I,
   pointing to the cow DOG! the rooster DOG!
   when from upstairs I heard a waning sob
   and took both flights in leaps of three,
   Toad flopping hard over my arm,
   laughing as the milk slapped in her belly,
   laughing as we skipped another three.

NEVER AGAIN THE SAME

Toad toes into the room in a leotard.
    What are you doing, Dad?
         I’m reading poems.
    Well, I want to read pomes,
    but I don’t have a pomes book.
         Let’s read one together.
         NEVER AGAIN THE SAME
         Speaking of sunsets,
    What’s sunsets?
         You know sunsets.
         When the sun goes
         down into the ground
         and the sky goes pink?
    I like that pink.
         Me too.
         Last night’s was shocking,
    What is shocking?
         Surprised and amazed
         at the same time.
She’s shocked.
    What the pome say next?
         Well, this one was terrifying.
         People were screaming in the streets.
         Sure, it was beautiful, but far too beautiful.
    What means far too beautiful? Far too?
         Something so beautiful, it scares you.
         It wasn’t natural.
    What natural is?
         The clouds, the trees.
         Animals. All life is natural.
She’s thinking.
Her face becomes a clock.
    Well, ballerinas are natural.
         Well, they are.
Well, they are.

RAINBOW BEGINNING

My salary is huge.
My life is changing.
Colors too.

Red ... The former white of my eye.
Orange ... Sitting on my desk like Buddha.
Green ... Money.

              Do you want to be rich? I say.
                 Yes, says Toad.
              Why?
                 I don’t know. What is rich?
              It means you have a lot of money.
                 Oh. I want a lot of money.
              Why?
                 So I can be rich.

AMERICAN DREAM

A father wishes his son to live
on less than he lived on,
and his son less,
and his son less,
and his less,
and his, until
the whole progenic
beach wants for nothing.

ABSORPTION

My Lord pours upon my lawn torn by my massive dog. Yesterday I overpaid for juiced-up seed and lizer. Absorption. I broke my ground and spread the stuff, and tomorrow it scends fat potential. It’s dark this night, this morning. The Moon eagers to return and preside over my pageant. I should be asleep. And yet. Absorption. And tomorrow Absorption. And tomorrow my girls face a great absorption. Tonight my dog’s tumor peals dimly like a bell beneath his scruff. Absorption. I am trying to tell you. Absorption, Absorption. Have I not been trying to tell you as my dog tries for my last bite of everything?

AFTER APRIL

May the piano strings detune in unison. May the dandelion seeds not float into the neighbor’s yard. May I be patient with my daughter when she hits the baby. May I never raise my voice again in anger. May Christ burn clean my eyes so when I wet His feet, they need not a second wash. May joy rend me as I wash them again.

ANDY SERKIS

One night,

when she was pregnant,
the salt of living sharpened all.

How else can I put it?

I wept into her larger breasts,
kissed the baby through her belly,

and when she said,
What’s wrong?
the only words I found:

I just love Andy Serkis.
We should name the baby GREEN.
Is there anything better than a single piece of candy?

GIF from Paper Moon (1973).

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STATE OF STIMULANT

• Writers’ Workshop January 7 @ Cafe Nocturne (19 Prince Arthur).

• This Will Save You Two at Sotterenea.

• “This Will Save You” reprint, January something.

• “Stimulant Volume Two”, March-ish.

• Johnny Carter play.