Beaver, Cat, Clam


Think of it as a small
tender beast. With large
deformed paws. With a razor-
wire necklace. Think of it
as your mother once she's
drunk, when she has forgotten
her second language and can
only swear at you in Russian.
Think of it as a cop
on a Segueway, as a cop on a
Segueway in shorts. Think
of it as an attractive sky,
blasting in your face. With
the moon, sun and stars all
jangling at once. Think of it
as the pink and black sow
you bit at the petting zoo
when you were five. Think of it
with hooves, with hands.
Think of it as the mouth
of an old Mamacita after
she's removed her teeth
for the night. With the scent
of her last whiskey-rich coffee.
Think of it as a drowned girl,
long hair covering her face,
by the side of the pool. Think
of it as her lips, her throat
with your breath inside, your
breath, your breath. Think
of her coughing once, waking
up with her hand on the back
of your head.