12.29 Tattle Tail
A little girl went padding by
a little twinkle in her eye
as if she found a treasure bright
or made it dryly through the night
and with this gleam she did draw near
her mother without shame or fear
and from a place in her far south
she opened up her ugly mouth
revealing rows of jagged teeth
just like a blood-ringed pearly wreath
and from her fat back without fail
there sprouted there a tattle tail
this scaly switch that grew so quick
stretched itself then gave a flick
as if to portend things unsaid
things she was to soon unbed
so from her nasty mouth-cave came
a proclamation to her fame
that someone wronged her moments past
their anonymity—it could not last
when such a voice cannot be kept
under the covers where it slept
it simply must bust forth to call
about the place this blame should fall
and point the fingers at a friend
or enemy if this that ends
no matter what the consequence
she simply must tell someone hence
her mother nods and thanks the girl
with bloodstained face and crooked pearls
and turns to us—our smiles fail
“She likes to be a tattle-tale.”
###
12.30 Bag of Nickels
If I could count the miles
that have passed underneath
this passenger seat
while I sing and he listens
take that tally sheet
to the bank and cash in
shiny nickels for each
the sack I’d have to bring with
could never again be moved
by any number of human hands
and yet I would still be less inclined
to move once more into that same seat
for any more trips
no matter the length
or necessity of such things
and that bag of nickels could sit.
###
12.31 New Year’s Eve
Her scissors severed everything
that was keeping me tied
to this year of injury
turns of ankle and fate
bruised monogamy and skin
expectations of employment
or any sense of enjoyment
of this misery that ends tonight
it now lies in a black bag
awaiting the landfill
where in a better time
different place
it might become something soft
and beautiful to couch
perhaps
a nesting egg
the pride a mother would guard
with her very own life.
###
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