From diode

PROMISE RING

When the horror materialized, I was noodling
with my boots on, 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 not jump to conclusions.
On the idiot box a woman in poltergeist

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

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