The
Power Table
You, lying across
the wide bed, vertical,
I, horizontal,
you, I, in a green
field two green paths
flowered with xxxx’s and xxxx’s
you, I, lined
inside
with pre-historic quarrels
old black cuts
in a wooden kitchen table
the table where
you sit down with your older brothers
the table where things get settled once & for all
the cow’s hip
shaved down to the brand
her body divided into zones
Yes I am standing
in the doorway
yes my softness & my hardness are filled with a secret light,
but I want world-light
and this-world company.
Door
in the Mountain: New & Collected Poems
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