From diode

PROMISE RING

When the horror materialized I was noodling
with my boots on and waiving everyone’s
signature. Since then I know I have arrived

with keys where the fingers ought
to waggle but teenagers do not enter
into it. I didn’t want this way back when

I was mean. It is an accordion effort
just to breathe with you, to align snouts
and buttons and no jumping to conclusions.
On the idiot box a woman in poltergeist

drag and all my instincts chewing out
of me like field mice. I thump the cushion
away like a professional but can’t tell

you where the hawk will land. Crook
of your consciousness, funny bone
splintering danger in

the dog’s soft palate. Cool as a bowl
of anti-freeze that holds
still the moon’s reflection.

© Jen Tynes 2010