Tuesday, July 19, 2016


Fitting In

Human optics are maladaptive in this place
something crawls my arm:
the bloody pinpricks in pentadactyl clusters
develop like a photographic print
the native plants, invisible to us
entwine our beans and squash
crush the life from fragile stems
a brute-force competition
in which only kudzu can prevail
among terrestrial transplants.

I'm getting used to kudzu soup
but last night I dreamt my dead wife
I awoke alone, struggling for air
bruises welling on my limbs.
Now something I can't see
is knitting booties and night shirts
I am building a crib
but for all I know I need two or three

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