pome kerry The poem began like eyes opening. They thought of the houses littered on the opposite side of the train tracks. Late nights in the future, yellow walls, Skin creasing over bright bones like glow-sticks. Her neck expanded as she reached to kiss his forehead. He caught a milky smell. He had first caught it In the car with the windows down when they pretended to live in the 1940s. Her body swelled and twisted and he held her two-handed Like a sack. Presses fingers to ribs Like hushing a pair of lips. The next poem began when they were standing on a sidewalk And the orange and brown leaves were skating And tiptoeing all around awnings and crackled mailboxes. Their hands were the color of their tongues, raw and chapped and cold. It was a man dragging a lawnmower that passed Behind the dead hydrangeas, was only a cat. A tabby with a dragging tail. Do you know who baked that man? she asked. He pulled off his boot afterward and all the skin went with it. We used to smear school glue all over our hands and then try to pull it off in one sheet. Remember that? And you had the puppets and I had the kettle And we wore canvas shoes. Everyone was our friend then. 040818 ... cr0wl let's pretend that we can pretend 090307 what's it to you? who go blather from