Saturday, January 2, 2016

January 2 Poem

There is always a seam of weakness
on a champagne bottle, that's how
you slice the top off explains my new wife's
younger brother who does so with a machete
in his pajama pants on Christmas morning
we flew to Ohio and have just emerged from
her childhood bed we were cocooned i asked
is it strange to have me in this room
she answered yes and no this is where i learned
to masturbate to dream of bodies and my own
and here we are entwined in sheets, our bodies
newly wedded in her bed in her parents' house
in Ohio, a place she once thought she might not
be able to return to we will again and again.
There is always a seam of weakness along the cuticle
of a monarch pupae, that's how an adult monarch encloses
wriggles forth winged and bright into the world. First
it swallows air through tiny holes in its well built embryo
expanding its thorax through breathing and breathing until
it splits the cocoon and pulls itself out, a second birth
a survival, its wings dry out and then it flies off
in search of sweetness.

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