Enough

Bananas sound like chop chop chop.
My daughter (18) with her stick-insect wrists
cutting them up to freeze and blend.
My kitchen is full of their fat-free sweat.
I don’t know how to talk about it.

I pick one up and touch it
to my nose. Close, the skin
has its own dun scent. Some creatures

consume the skin, I think.
I tried that once to see. Between the teeth
a stringy density. On the mouth’s membrane
a drying, withering chalk.
The banana in my hand is cool and smooth

like a wax effigy. My fingers wrap it
with just enough of a lap
to feel secure. Its body

is firm and curvily slim
like the limb of a well-made woman,
the woman my daughter might
become, if she eats
bananas enough.

First published in The High Window, issue 1, Spring 2016

Mens underpants

Mens underpants! black, plain
Against them my     white lines
stand out
Mens underpants! solid-seamed,
heavy-hemmed, broad
in the crotch
So much space for my
generosity

Mens underpants! in the mirror
They cover the caesar scar trench
in my flesh
Mens underpants! dark, flat
Against them my     fair rondure
stands out
In them I     am so much more
of a woman

First published in Creatrix 33, June 2016

when she is a bear

the mother. in the night.
the bear mother. a sign.
the daughter. fix the air.
her foot in mist.
a note of rock.
when she is a daughter.
when her cloud brother.
cloud father.
when she is a bear. her
tooth. her pelt.
when we make ridiculous laughter.
the bee buzz. the honey.
to fix thee, sister. a light.
thou bear. thou note of rock.