Elegy For A Broken Part

I.

I have inherited these feet
from the trust fund of fear

a garage full of rusting knickknacks
stored in a body shop of intent.

Autoparts not in stock mean these
limbs are bootlegged, jimmy rigged

hands done put his tongue back together
again until oil dribbled from the bottom.

White ribs and bones slid out of the menthol box
a damned do-dad galloping homeward to pink lips

with wrists tuned up to the point of seeming fixed.
Set or rather put me down in a machine

I need something to get from point A
to point B, nothing fancy but reliable

safe—a shield from the
lightening that is living.

We don’t hide in the South we pass
for what or from whom I don’t know.

Under hairy arms I carried the greasy fried fish
bleeding through the brown bag’s paper skin.

Wrenching the shadows with his steely
eyes, noisy nostrils flared wings

Daddy said he seen cars walk on water
and that at one time the people could fly

as if myth is some
form of knowing

we will all just
have to make do.

II.

We will all just
have to make do

as if myth is some
form of knowing.

Daddy said he seen cars walk on water
and that at one time the people could fly

wrenching the shadows with his steely
eyes, noisy nostrils flared wings.

Under hairy arms I carried the greasy fried fish
bleeding through the brown bag’s paper skin.

We don’t hide in the South we pass
for what or from whom I don’t know.

Safe—a shield from the
lightening that is living.

I need something to get from point A
to point B, nothing fancy but reliable

with wrists tuned up to the point of seeming fixed.
Set or rather put me down in a machine

white ribs and bones slid out of the menthol box
a damned do-dad galloping homeward to pink lips.

Hands done put his tongue back together
again until oil dribbled from the bottom.

Autoparts not in stock mean these
limbs are bootlegged, jimmy rigged

a garage full of rusting knickknacks
stored in a body shop of intent.

I have inherited these feet
from the trust fund of fear.

 

 

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