If I am speechless, would love be a mouth?
                                                          Jeanette Winterson, Gut Symmetries


bees inside the corn husk
blatant silk
royal jelly
night swung its sugary gardenia stick

                                       and so it rained
                                       for 97 days

we dined on the roof gerald and I
held the business end of a lightning rod
religious conversion
gerald’s hands on the electric fence

                                       the body he said is a great conductor


§


a horse laid his head in my lap
I could hardly breathe the oh the oh the
christmas crisp rough fur
they were steam cleaning the streets
of vienna for mozart’s birthday



                                       a bee-cloud all around
                                       humming wet between
                                       baroque and revolution



we had a conversation about the girls
that died one from each school
murder suicide found in an apartment
a forest clearing a fishing shack
by the river

                                       gerald spoke in tongues



§



there is a banquet inside me
candied and perfumed there is
lonely and there is
there is
good


                                       oh lamb of god I come I come












*