← v9n2, Fall 2010
Poetry · Volume 9, Number 2

September

,

.

How clean

the thousand surfaces

rivers

         RVs and

orange mesas

                       emerge each morning

rows of privet

clipped and swept

a linen blouse uncreased beneath

the steaming iron

again and again

the world is rinsed

to a scintillant mesh

And still

             the faces

gush from arrival gates

throbbing with this

bare imperative

to populate

the shivering expanse

this drive

of the body itself

to slice a space

 out of the aggregate

and hold it

at whatever cost of

blood semen money

spit