STREET KISSES

Buzzards swim in autumn circles,
a darkening navel above the country road.

Feedlot. Back lot. Gaminess
rides the late September wind,

love odor rising from the loft hay,
the breathier, heavier animals

knocking about in the stalls below.
Bony punches delivered, restless

as a street fight.
The shift slow, then sudden to the cities—

tight-fisted men on the sidewalk,
pinch on the butt, tongue in the ear

while the wavery country buzzards
pull at carcasses baked in the sun.

Dark clots. Not much different
from the hacked-off city blocks,

graffiti-smeared,
the scrawl of red and black everywhere

as the oiled nocturnal needs turn on
someone else's finger ready to stroke

the pulse while inner folds unfold.
Under the street light

a girl opens to her lover,
corner church clouded with candles,

smoke in the sanctified dark.
Deep breath, wick lit

and blown out like the years.

First published in Yellow Silk