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Hot Tar
The smell of hot tar,
molten pavements; the
sticky hardness marks my
feet with gummy teeth.
Brown creosote stains
into playground fencing.
Stringy paintbrushes
slap fumes up
like bonfire smoke.
Slimy sandwiches -
cheese and cucumber slide
over scabby knees on swings.
Peel away soggy bread,
I pincer the green skin,
wiggling in the air.
Fling it to the birds,
Sam shrieks “Litterbug!”
I know it’ll rot,
flesh on the soil.
Slime apart to be eaten
by stumpy worms,
the ones she diced in two.
But she’s not listening,
she left me for a sticky bun.
I watch kiss-chase,
lose a tooth in my apple as
the tar creeps up my nose,
making everything sour.
Riverside Walk
We walked today; the dog, you and I,
by flattened reeds. The dry thistles
scratched at my smooth calves, nibbling
like the midges that zoomed, swatted
by the spring breeze. You led, the sun threw
cubist shadows from your shoulders.
I trailed behind; heard the bird wings
flapping like my skirt, a rhythmic rise and fall.
The dog mooched between, nose to earth.
The sky's spotlight pulled our gaze
toward the river borders frothing,
singing icily, invitingly. The dog
gambolled down and wet legs we followed.
The shallow rapids bowled against my ankles,
feet knocked from under me. I fell into you.
Our laughter echoed his frolicking splashes.
Sudden muddy paw prints paired us.
I lent to tug at his fur, pull at his ears,
held out my hand to you for the ball.
Your eyes on my hand as I throw.
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