April 3rd

(100th poem on this blog!)

the wish-granter

on a rock sea grey as rooting

I sang my grit

not courage not paneling

was a poem

I would do, I would do

I would do

I saw the fir needles in his arms

green spokes

not turning not speaking

I would do, I would do

I would do

under a brown sea a mouth

of mud spoke

in pictures of my poems

in my mouth I spoke

with the voice of the I would do

and the mouth of the I would do

came out of my mouth

the poem collapsed the house

until the house was nothing

all spokes

until love was planted in his body

like it was the only home

in hallways between his skin

he saw fir green

my I would do