Science of Uncertainty
As the season browns
like an apple I watch
the spider lace her webpaler than smoke
in my porch corner.Against the inside-
outside world she waitsfor what catches
in light. They cometo her and stay—
thistle, fly, mosquito,
black thread, hangnail,littlest measuring
spoon, a knotof golden hair.
Against the wool-heatof the season I wait
for the man who kepton the lantern
who left small starson my collarbone
and traced my hipswith his tongue.
When he asked whereI learned to kiss
that way, how could I sayit was to keep
another man from leaving?Each flick
was a cry of desperation,each cry a measure
clung to rancid air.
How could I say
that he left anyway,found another girl
and married her?I learned nothing
is sweet enough to keep
from casting aside.
The Waiting Girl Sobers Up in the Same Room as Before
Another one with your spell in my blood.
Another one with you leaving. After the flood.
After the song. Another one with dry wine
at my table. Your dark smell lingers, heavy
as walls. A pear rots in the carpet. Moths fuzz
the chandelier. After the red tide.
After the chorus line. A doorknob chunks
inside my skull. My nails stiffen with clay.
After the conjuring. After the over-
share. Another one with everyone in khakis
squinting through the windows, murmuring
why are you so alone? Another one
where I like that. Sunset flushes seeded glass,
pink as citrus. After the hangover. After
the nicotine stains. Another one where
I show too much thigh. What else could I do
but clear my throat of smoke, tap my wrists
with oil, and arrange my face
like a plate of odd salads? All night, the long shadows.
Another one where the ceiling caves in.
Another one with rain in my hair.