wyrdwind

Metronome

Lemme preface this,

just for the record,

I’m straight as a razor.

A woman’s woman.

I bring a certain

energy to the table—

the bar is now here,

no return.

Some asada drunk,

whole familia up,

and you’re lazing around

while I’m dancing with your girl,

serenading with Bad Bunny,

and she returns fire passionately

in English, so I can know

what the lyrics mean.

I hit David Bowie, Billy Idol,

oh I fuck all over my baritones,

maybe some other stuff, say you want

Tenor But His Balls Dropped,

I wreck beats when these hips drop,

she’ll show me what she’s got,

a slow grave your name on it,

comes home later horny and mean,

you try to be cute then it’s a fight,

maybe that flew before your oldest was five,

sorry.

Do Better

How we always in the kitchen

but eating first, at our leisure,

remembering her grandmother,

more than you’ve seen her

eat all week. Ask why

like worms for brains,

who serves the plates?

Bit of a lady rooster,

find fun treats for the girls,

good places to nest,

whatever makes life easier.

Fuck a gallito up at the bar.

My dance more threat display,

if I’m on the floor men stay away,

and bitch I don’t take breaks,

but don’t think you’re safe,

one of these days, been steady

dove beat breaths on her heart,

I never neglect a fire,

when some specimen turns her head,

I’m the snake tickle in her ear,

you’ll find I’m a boa constrictor,

I’ve got the girth, the rhythmic grip,

the patience

to sink your battleship.

Screech Owl

Now I’m no home wrecker,

I just

tease the truth of your desires,

I’m here to keep you honest.

Don’t fear this creature of the night,

no sense my silent flight malign, talons

plunge at what you hide.

Consider me the pest control,

she won’t leave unless it’s time to go,

I sense the scurry, all

she won’t let herself know. Skitter

under leaf litter and heavy snow.

Privy to pure stream of consciousness,

every dream she ever has, this

is the mantle of Best Friend, spectral

analysis, your walls have ears, Holy

Ghost in the shell. She said,

after Jurassic World Rebirth,

that many marriages can’t handle

the death of a child, lingered,

they fall apart.

That was one week

before.

Sanctity

I say, I say, nah

I’m no Jezebel. Lilith

is the proper noun to spit at God.

Got them traditional values,

my she shed’s a cave in the desert

and I do tinker. Doing People so soon

took too much out of her, whisked away

to the property, sushi platter, blankets,

Practical Magic and a dream.

No electricity. Okay,

pillow bed on the cement slab,

and the new hearth’s maiden fire,

and the thrush of desert life more

than sound enough. First

full moon of autumn adrift

off starboard bow, blushed

over pastel mountains. Pinks,

blues and purples.

All we did was talk,

saw two shooting stars,

she prayed to Jesus over spider ants,

wild donkeys fuckin’ in the foothills—

don’t know what else on a Saturday 9 pm—

coyotes in the distance with pups.

Only pulled the gun twice.

Once at some idling guys,

and then because our only flashlight

for the toilet we couldn’t see inside.

Arizona amirite?

Wide open space, crest

of a breeze, creosote studded

recently wet valley.

Our voices carried,

did others sleep?

On our bellies kicking feet,

I hummed Adesso e Fortuna,

Eternity in the English version

by Akino Arai. We mulled

the twinkling residential lights

on the far side.

Even worked up a cackle,

grief’s sediment dispelled

for a moment

when I mentioned

being warden

of Husband Hell.

Reverend

Been passenger

to what women do to themselves

in a mirror. They wouldn’t recognize

their whole self, much less

true desire. They can’t be honest,

and men don’t know how to be wanted.

The truth is

most would go untouched.

It’s too much

of a chore or performance,

she’s fetishized her own oppression,

he’s attracted to ritualized submission

and fucks according to porn

to please other men.

The absolute state of this bed.

I’ll say this once and never again,

I do not care how many men were harmed

in the making of a woman’s pleasure.

Out here in the fog of what’s fair

in love and war.

I’ll show you a fuckin’ body count.

The leading cause of death in obstetrics

is intimate partner violence. Homicide,

60% of those deaths at the hands

of a man she knows. Partner, close or calls friend.

One in three will experience

attempted or completed rape

in her lifetime.

Harassment?

High.

I’m here in spirit,

snappin’ necks is more efficient,

instead I’m on the couch

with a traumatized first time

soon to be mom

massaging her scalp for hours.

That’s right. Hours.

I don’t take breaks.

Fingerstyle

Wanna know what it’s like huh?

How it feels when you’re the One,

somethin’ like somethin’ like

pull your hips back against mine

and rock-a-bye rock-a-bye kiss,

pluckin’ at your waistband ’cause

you’re in range man. I just feel like it.

Put you on your back every chance I get,

in the dirt, in the grass, or half in public,

won’t go to my death wishin’ I touched you less.

To the tune of your fine ass asleep in my bed,

but all heads present and accounted for,

just pettin’ your baby hairs and there’s Jr

like I might beat a dead horse.

Best be prepared. Clean underwear?

At least three pairs. Wanderin’ hands

at the grocery store. I don’t let up.

Your tears on my tongue singin’

Eyes on Me by Faye Wong

and Cosmic Love

like the cosmic ice melts for Audhumla,

lappin’ your chatter like a panther

with a plate of milk. Puttin’ everyone

on notice, best tree in my forest,

or a very good post. If I can’t be there,

I leave notes. Callin’ cards.

My devotion leaves exquisite scars,

every piece you thought lost made art,

stained glass harmonized, I resonate,

weak palates scoff at “plain” vanilla bean,

but my mouth savors every intricacy, delicate

tremble and sweat with relentless

sweetness and simplicity. Done right,

hunger

is the best seasoning.