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Wild that water that spiders outward / liquor
sure wears mean through eyes shot red / remember,
your mother warned, to stay in the clear
outside the squares of his side / walk -ways
o
of water spiders—the molesting figure. This at which
your eyes think /long -legged eyelashes kick
out / rippling the saline ponds with each step / bastard
-father you never planned.
o
This and those, times-two / through which sand pours fastest
when doubled / vision of these shapes too / both oval
-remembered bedrooms, mother’s and yours / that familiar
lurk / that murky figure who entered space just because
o
it emptied him / leached from your hourglass into which
you’ve yet to figure / feel that glare again over
the green pond morning sun closing up nature /
nursling you were and never knew.
o
There this dark, the wildly inexorable / inertia
system spill of your hourglass sand / your blood again
shocked in jets / fragment stream of dead sex cells /
egged on like a bubble in Prell / pondering
o
you divided at this step / -bedroom, a glare still
and now watching a water spider kick open
a square figure eight / out to the marsh /
mornings you abstracted, so never saw.
o
Migrain the mother knowing least/how to resist knowing
the molesting father as water spider, yours / figure
you lost by motion alone / his fingers bleeding
sand in your small slip; its hiss / in your eyes
o
cracking eggshell white / red as the sand
cracking your hourglass by its motion / blood’s emotions
alone / out of time and memory / hers too, the mother
in love you should have told.
o
Muleta -red is the emotion that returns / divides you
at the fleshing mirror that separates / returns you! /
At which door? / Both doors back and forth,
the strongest current at either side you think
o
to turn / Which side? / both lives into which he slipped,
stripped and slumped, slitting his eye
-lids shut / whose eyes? / His, in each the apple
that was you: split open and always dropping.
o
Red the veins’ spill and sand the blood
of wet /whites the better to see you with / who
saw / whose eyes? / Silent the witness
you always hurt / who heard, who saw? / She who told
o
they who know! / who told, who knows? / She who tried
not to, whose eyes too cracked red / wide
under the pour of your hourglass, the mother
you didn’t! / didn’t you know to tell?