RAN INTO YOU AGAIN

I love the way we talk
like two slowly backing cars
steadily ploughing into each other
maiming each other slightly
with each poorly loaded statement
eating each other slowly for breakfast
making each other retarded
dulling and banging our blunt minds together

You grope through my thoughts with big hammy hands
while I squeeze your brain through my fingers like ripe whale blubber

We love it though, we must
we must love it, like two flabby moths
enjoy fwapping into the same light-bulb
again and again

We must do this again

NOT QUITE READY BY SEVEN

The Sunday open doors
of the Pentecostal-Apostolic-Sunday-day-and-8pm-nightIy church
look to me again like when I was five and scrubbed at seven sharp;
like two giant hedge-clippers, or two gaping mouths
with teeth and folks spraying in and out
settling down their chatter
clearing their last throats
and bringing in and reeling up their good-to-see-you-Mary eyes
in to focus on the mission-statement map of the entire world
mustard for the reached
peach for the un-reached peoples

Looking down now to my mothers face
she has the same forest in her mind
and growth on her head
two rices on the boil at home
one savoury
one sweet with cloves
her marriage cup overflows at a crumbling alter
like mother like daughter, she blinks once
and tickle-glances to my father
who has always believed in a pocket-wrench
to do what he can
and a puncture repair-kit to do the rest

I was small and nearly dressed (even now the last sock is off)
but one hand's already free from the stocks
while dad's slapping the faces he can reach
one foot sprinting out in front of the other
a cheerleader squad to plug him along political and ugly
Our Father
Face like a monkey
Arm like a butcher
Teeth like slowly unravelling carpet
And a great glowing heart of golden-brown rust.

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