I thought we were going to a regular dermatological appointment this morning, but instead got to watch as four nurses dug biopsy samples out of my skinny 11-year-old's arms. They strongly suspect Lupus. Tell me how to explain an unpreventable, incurable, chronic disease with frequent and frightening fatalities to my sweet, funny little chap. (And if you know the secret, tell me how I can stop breaking on the inside.) 

Summer Clouds

Is that dusty skin smoke?
there's no word for sea
in the midwest, speak
from necessity, not fact

No flower chalices lie
warmed like your ear
pick one bird song--
run just one for life.

What would you match?
on some deserted island
what would you catch?
Everything seems parrots

repeating repeating:
immortal new names
now costly like blood
--orange sum of sun.

_

Campaign

[I'm not particularly depressed. Not at all. In fact with parents (long visit) and kids (summer vacation) around I'm happy albeit in a sort of militaristic way (trying to rally the--suddenly doubled--dependents and get things done as close to schedule as possible). The poetry has been all pouty lately though. That I've noticed.]


Holding Folding up both
ends of our conversation:
corners, tablecloth tidy,
put away. Picnic's over.

Flag: surf and sulphur heaven
wave disease, spread pleased
so many tiny, tiny hands march
and halt in veiled fields overhead.

_

Fun with Grandparents (at three years old)

Shoe:
(Remember you still get your shoes on the wrong foot every single time, in complete refutal of the laws of probability.) Wander over to where your grandparents are hanging out, with just one shoe dangling from your finger. Nonchalantly ask your over-eager Thatha for help getting it on. After he does, and offers to help you with the other one too, say dismissively:

I don't need your help anymore, Thatha, I know which foot the other one goes on. Thanks.

Teacher:
Test the waters to see if your newly-arrived grandparents are more cooperative than your other family members about turning on the TV at your command. After your grandparents have refused to turn on the TV for you, play a few games of Connect Four, then casually suggest that you play pretend school. Claim the part of teacher before anyone else does. Then demand:

Turn on the TV now. I'm the teacher, you MUST listen to me. Do it NOW.

_ 

LOCUS

There's drumbeat of dislike
irreconcilable conversation

I'm a shapeshifter, so
I misrepresent myself.

Blue and dark as it is
shadows are darker still

I'm a shoplifter, I take home
the whole look in my head

In calm, strange indifference
an arched, architectural back

cheeks are shattered shields
hair falls: spiral as argument

_

Birth Story

A foot
is made of inches
they have two each
and measure two

there is a cunt
made of muscle
I have gained:
stretchmarks

as though children
once imprisoned
have clawed
their way through

my body thins
into elastic sticks
and can now slip
under doors

Babies begin to cry
my mind stoops again
in pain and memory.
Babies cry; I identify.

The Teacher

Sleep, Arjuna
the lines of your palm
cast shadows;
children dream of you.

War is indefensible
is honorable war
and riddled plain
on Kurukshetra

Human. You are.
suffer undisciplined
dilemma. Speak, Arjuna
in this hairy garment of skin

divine animal
O individual
rebirth .  act .
the practical

hold the world,
old and fluted
warrior (for yet
another minute)

[fragment]
__