we write poems about other things than poverty and whiskey, just not this one
There are new poems to be written
Without references to evening glasses of whiskey
Or memories of rusted train cars
And the dirt that cakes underneath untrimmed toenails
Clean new poems about doing laundry
Watering gardenings and hammering nails
into cold frames for spinach in February.
The neighbor’s pitched roof
Instead of flat roofed shotgun row houses
and a tree growing up through the basement.
We won’t mention in these poems
Frozen fingertips and ice frozen on brown tarps
Sleeping through a railroad crew change in Havre, Montana.
Wanting nothing more than a hot shot of whiskey
and a juniper twig of a cigarette rolled without the cover of cotton gloves.
Bright poems about house plants
Walking their way around hallway corners
prayer flags getting tossed in forty mile an hour gusts
A new used pickup truck in the driveway
Silver like the tracks of the Burlington Northern through Abo Canyon
East of Belen and south of Albuquerque and a quiet sobriety