POETRY

t’wards

determination: from singleness to single-mothering to…

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

& t’wards the grail i fell
& i’ve fallen & fall too well
& a feather spins to quarrel
on my shoulder hence a brick
& the jerkies make me sick
& the world tastes of sorrel

& the banjaxed-mail has pox
& Ann R. Key fits all the locks
& the scrupus eats my almond
& my fingernails & feet
& the gravel tastes too sweet
& things i knew become dissolvent

& i find a twenty-bill
& break the bill for four/five meals
& loose some change in Heaven’s couch
& i’m still a chile of God
& i like me in my pod
but my doubtfuls got me crouched

when the most of me was scar
i kissed him fine in movie-cars
then two end-keys of pianos
were my pomes of jub’lant womb
out of sequence; truant broom
but my heart raised two sopranos