WHICH

I hang your clothes inside my eyes.
In the round tart dirt November.
Human spittle in the sky. Parrot ass
and growingly increasing
speechlessness. Where you are
I know you are where, weeks alone
with Jenny Pencil, in the wild
decoded dark. In the burnt-out
spider web-less. Lawn clippings
in a bag in a stoneware pot
in the yard and garden section
of my supermarket heart–
etc. I know my body
is a you-ing one, and
you don’t know my me.
I’m here to talk to you.
My blood is wide
like alligator waters.
My blood is many pee.

—

Curtis Pugle-Smith is an Orthopedic Nurse working in Roanoke, Virginia.