three by jean valentine
Mare and Newborn Foal
When you die
there are bales of hay
heaped high in space
mean while
with my tongue
I draw the black straw
out of you
mean while
with your tongue
you draw the black straw out of me
Rodney Dying (3)
I vacuumed your bedroom
one gray sock
got sucked up it was gone
sock you wore on your warm foor,
walked places in, turned,
walked back
took off your heavy shoes and socks
and swam
Leaving
The dark black line
around the darker brown
ball of your eye
-- I could only look at one eye at a time
like a horse:
white ring around the eye:
terror.
Eight years I sat on my heels in the field
waiting for you.
I wanted to.
When you die
there are bales of hay
heaped high in space
mean while
with my tongue
I draw the black straw
out of you
mean while
with your tongue
you draw the black straw out of me
Rodney Dying (3)
I vacuumed your bedroom
one gray sock
got sucked up it was gone
sock you wore on your warm foor,
walked places in, turned,
walked back
took off your heavy shoes and socks
and swam
Leaving
The dark black line
around the darker brown
ball of your eye
-- I could only look at one eye at a time
like a horse:
white ring around the eye:
terror.
Eight years I sat on my heels in the field
waiting for you.
I wanted to.