For such spaces between immodest yellow leaves—
for evidence of air—for the great
diversity of cars that grace side streets

is suspended in agar in sweet cream in
magma in lard;

Suddenly, you were planting some yellow petunias
outside in the garden,

Just as Milton had to face
the problem of rain in paradise,
I have to figure out what to do with you.

The Palladian arch framing the scene
contains my grief.

Your blood is a river from your side; tributaries
flow from your hands and feet.

The guinea hen of Manalapan
has a wattle like a turkey, but cut short.
Her feathers have spots like streaked paint.

It was not male, who galloped
across a divided 
landscape, or female.

To keep his blessed armor hard he ate
                                lean meat, cruciferous greens, few 
                                grains. He liked his instants

The beds are always made, and bright hallways
veer off like lanes, looking for canals to leap
across in a white arch, and the stairs rise