same same

When the cold rained feet
and our hair let birth
with a coal ring heart
and the bird statue purred
at the black widows perm
with the canned hands and feet
would you look at the
hate with shape of the crumb
boil it neatly Christmas for me
dancing born knees
cashing the bones
in working for the holler
baby got boil bones
can't operate on rhythm
hold up the hands
phone in the pants
while they vibrate the collar
pockets full of dollars
now fragments or the mirror
our positively gleaming
boy on the pole
is working the real dirt
flaunting all the cancer
ridden in the magazine
tv addicted to poppy seed
now i noticed you looked
so old
an bend out of shape why don't you
straight hate ten your overalls
or the paints on the walls
baby stop tracking
your crayon hands down the halls
didn't even know the poem
had started
didn't write my name in ink, sitting
with the pink, ripen tickle her,
the wild men in the herd.
had it all tucked in the head.