Lewis LaCook

Vrooman rd

You make me lay down
In a clean bed
On the lights on
Across the house

And through the woods
I cradle my cheek to sleep
Warm mammal against my knee
Voices spray light across

They corkscrew shrill
On linoleum
Remove me with a door frame
We are involved you and I

They hinge on my hands pressed
On my slack
How you hate when
Haunts the page breaks

So you nap
Your voice a spray of light
Through the wall
I am that half charred breath

Thought the class
I am that turn away
Battery of flowers
Wilding light in a fine mist

As if I could live
With my edges
On Vrooman Rd
My body ticking away

With its air growing white
Riots in a strip mall
Parking lot half buried
In collapsed lung

In the exact center of your back where you can’t reach white sky come down eat all the green grass in one day too wet to burn to slice through the first layer where I perform in waves of rituals my body ticking away the white hairs in one day I came on your hand marked where we brought holiday space cake in fear at how large he’s out of his house in months red scrub wrestling with its own takeover of not wanting to know the names and not thinking to easy when you don’t sacrifice to wild light or any other eating thing on or of him that are afraid of us to go out of my

Back. Yes. Right.

There. Yes.

Yes and bless you hun. Thank you hun

Hand hooked around the handle sands stretch to the horizon (where the light goes wild)

When you don’t sacrifice
To empty hours
The green grass swallower
The white peppered smile

When in your kitchen the faucet
Counts to your last breath
Spectacular ice where
Feet mistook for high ground

You don’t want to be the only living thing
And I
The one who got one back there
Drag the failure of dried life

Pull past these red thorns
Apart from embarrassing moss
In places where these red thorns
Cry out for pity in your clothes

(Look down from where we know
Must be and squeeze a few tears
Out for the carcass he hangs
From a peg in the back of the barn
Because he always wants to eat your swift
Glide through black patience of November
Trees because what is there to stop him
And what has ever been there but
A sad dusk hunting memories in the ruins
Where warm mammal sleep feeds the hunger
For manifestation and where music
Listens for the fall of the other shoe)

I still remember how when your tears
Soaked into the mud something new
And exciting always sprang up but now

The world is too tired for slow wonder
So I write the names down as soon as
I’m told (close the door my dear

We’re involved you and I)
But sometimes I misspell them
On purpose and that’s why

Voorman rd being blind
Was a mercy when it rained
Other shoes

Where I mistook
My feet for
Solid ground