Tiger

Full-length mirror,
tattoos on muscled arms.
I feel like a tiger,
you said each morning,
Mom braiding my hair
by the sink
your boxing gloves
by the garage punching bag
protect your face,
you said when we trained,
but how many ships
cars miles bridges
does it take
God knows
how many women
before clarity
before purpose
before change
God help us
how many

Original Wounds

Eating lobster in Mexico
somewhere, drinking beer
in the sea shine sun,
could you ever be
relaxed enough

I now see ragged nerves,
strain, boxing gloves suspended
in the garage, swing of punching
bag, gunning of engines,
but ponder the cause

Something happened to me
when I was seventeen
that changed my life,
you told me in a dream
the night after you died

Harsh winds broke fences
dark by the eucalyptus
windbreaks, Granny’s
spacious washroom where
my dog Pal and I meandered

Marlboro pack there on the curb
crows shrieking from pepper trees
fierce and broken, you
waxing the new car, sea blue,
stunning in morning light

Journey Through Town

The trees north of here
thicket in the brown field
disturbance in the dry winds
tales of transgressions
too intimate to speak out loud

The winds always seemed
to start up in those dark hills
then shoot down like invisible impales
obscure memory thorns

Five or six, the cold brown bag,
beer hidden behind my legs
policemen passed by
we sped past the tall palms
gunning the engine if someone came near

That one time we went inside
a house, say hello to Gwen, you said
bristles occupied my thoughts,
fires igniting in the foothills

Walking the tracks by Granny’s house
earlier that day, counting railroad ties
almost to the next street, but she called me back
she dug weeds from the garden
Lord have mercy, don’t go wandering off

Again at the liquor store
I waited in the car, heart harsh in fear
of being kidnapped, so I slumped down,
until I heard you ask someone,
Have you seen my daughter

I sat up to meet your eyes
saw your whole body give a deep sigh
your relief to see that I was there
you didn’t know that I never felt safe

This was your town, though the place
of your birth and mine,
golden dirt, wind-filled furrows
down the bruised hills,
rusty fields, pepper trees and palms,
nights when the winds kicked up

The main street deserted
wires and decorations swinging
all across from bar to church
tumbleweeds, fish bones, sirens.

Later, in twilight I saw a wind devil
near the swings by Papa’s toolshed
I sat still while it whirled right past me
Your dad hammering away at something
beside the big barrels of bolts and screws

My dog Pal licking my hands,
Granny making fried chicken
Mom on her way from work
You sleeping, an oblivious and awful rest.