Middle of the Pole You Carry
Instinct says I am shouldering your groan
but this sentence wants to connect us. It’s an emptied form
that may contain a body, the steer’s charred leather
or my own box of will barbed like wire around a fence.
Everyone is asking so I’ll answer for us—
if aqua could replace the red inside meat, if the color of love
was a buckling hematite, a limestone border, warped fence
around a field with me watching. If,
what after? I’m speaking of the yellow stripe running
down the highway, one forward twin
and the twin who thumbs back. All night I’ve made you
into barbs shaped like grass. Only to resonate
some of you, enough. And look how the steer tunes
to give off acceptance. What kind of sentence
seals the envelope before it’s sent?