My love is like a deep and placid lake...
Not now, sweetie, Daddy's busy, OK?
OK: my love's a deep and peaceful lake...
Here, Daddy can fix it. All better. Now go play.
Um, my love, yes—a rose that blooms in spring...
You tell her Daddy says she has to share.
My love's... My love's a lake that blooms—no, that springs...
On the wall?! Her what?! No, wait—I'll be right there.
OK—love, lake, spring, joy, flower bedding...
And why is the house so quiet now, I wonder?
Ah, fuck it! (Whoops! Don't say that!) You know where I'm heading.
Don't touch a thing—I need to get the plunger!
Forgive me, love, but time, as you know, is ticking.
So here: no you, no joy, no life. No kidding.
The Rigid Body
The Ashland Poetry Press