pecan pie on styrofoam plate
wobbles slightly
the folding chairs
scoot in and out
to accommodate for expanding
stomachs
and waitresses bearing
gizzards and fries

every now and again
you pass an abandoned house
a skin shed by loud families
who took their flesh
and left their quiet ghosts

as we trundle over
the contours of the hills
clumps of mud
like fists
spring up to pound our truck

flood waters,
like a hand,
bore down on the fields,
returning stalks and fruit,
too soon,
to Earth,
compressed.

butterflies congregate
on the gravel road
they lift, like a breath
as our truck rumbles
through
they fly into the wheels

Dust Searches for Me

corn tassels are my
screen
from a lover's eyes.
dust searches for me,
over endless country roads.

Eighteen, and in a Hotel

In flat, restless sleep,
Two beds,
Four girls,
Our dreamless breath,
Swaying the silky down
On the crooks of
Each others' necks.
I bubble to waking.

From the other bed,
Crisp hushed voices,
Unlike the sluggish warmth,
Of the breath behind me.

He's coming.

A male presence,
Hard and driving,
Coming in quest,
Covertly to our
Soft, downy nest.
I hardly believe my ears.

Door open, sword of light,
The tightly coiled warrior
Takes soft hushed-voice
By the hand,
To the sofa bed in the next
Room.
By the hand, I'm told,
He spilled his seed.

But all I hear,
In silent anger,
Dark and brooding,
The rustling of sheets,
Soft wet parting skin,
As tightly coiled springs
Release,
When pressed.

The invasion left,
Assuaged,
Before the blush of
Dawn,
And never did the
Breath on my neck
Waver.
But I, I knew the
Cheap dishonor,
The steamy hardening
Of youthful hearts,
Before time could
Ripen them.

What a waste.

Month later, she cries,
Her body bathed in blood,
From her warrior's careless
Weapon.