poodles in the clouds
clouds made of poodles
that caterpillar who tickled my thigh
and made a cocoon on your skirt
was that orange monarch
who got caught in the windshield wipers
who got caught in the windshield wipers
and mended itself on my palm
to flutter back up into the cypress tree
i held my breath, fetal, on the cove
made of true crystal
thumbing a cactus
after i left you and
your belly of milk
your kiwi vines
your ink blots
for a pile of preciousness
pockets full
of chipped jade
wild fennel
dried prickly pear
airbrushed puka shells
gessoed mushrooms
a moldy house
a stress rash
a sports bra
Man, I swear, I'd give the whole thing up for you.