EXHIBIT R

On the edge of the desk

Like on a precipice, see the Nashville man
hands in pockets
(Exhibit R is a traveling exhibit: next stop, home?)

See the color of the eyes?
See the light trapped in the chest?
Now lean in closer.  If you look here
and here, you can see evidence of gentleness.

Along the limb lines, we can see in his stance
Decisions waiting
See these small postural indicators? They are signs
of inquiry among the people of that time.

No? Look closely.  The marks are subtle.
This is a cautious man.

SAMSON

They set a snare but like snake I slipped away
They built a wall but high bird I flew over
When they tied me with stones and tossed in the ocean
I became fish and swam to freedom
To the guillotine I was earthworm
Dragged by horsemen I was tortoise
Whipped like a stone I bore it

But when my love lied
the earth shook
Glass skies shattered
winds tore, screaming betrayal
by the breath in her nostrils

Blind and shorn,
what do I care now
My Heart is gone?
I will lean against these pillars
til the noise of their reveling dies down.

LAP SWIM

Swam laps.  Forgot goggles
but the light, the sound of water
lapping in my ears while I backstroke.
I thought of mother; her swimsuit
threadbare where her pregnant belly lolled.
All that was in San Antonio,
I remember.

In San Antonia father was in a rage
Studying full-time
Army.

So we walked
with mother, played
with her, teased her.

Mondays to the library
toeing the curb with red keds
watching mom for signs
of morning sickness.

Thursdays to the 7-11
and back home, chomping free ice
the entire way, hunching over the drains
to see how many cockroaches we could count.