I Am Not Trying to Hide My Hungers from the World Anymore
Not trying to wipe the smears
of gold from my chin
not trying to erase the decadence
of seeds and profanity
of grease not trying
to pretend I don’t open
my mouth around the zaftig
pearls of rain in the middle
of the night or that I don’t love
the moment right before sleep
when I am most tender
and translucent my bladder half-filled
knowing I will have to get up
and pee knowing my daughter
will wake up before I am ready
the way I became aware of her
on a climb through the mountains
a heaviness in my limbs a gentle
premonition as I walked later
to the Rite Aid and knew in my hands
and I knew in my mouth
and I knew in the way my body
pulled me forward as I wept
with joy but also grief
that a part of my life was ending
and isn’t it good to know when
life is about to swallow you whole
take you in its arms and say
“Live, bitch, live”
and you believe it
and this is how I will carry her
from her crib and open the curtains
partway not ready to let the
world in the trails of smoke
and exhaust winter-blue
as Cat Stevens’ Mona Bone Jakon
spinning on the Crosley
that opens like an old suitcase
when my daughter stands
on a chair lifting the stylus