Chastisement

talk about walnuts dammit
or bananas or plywood
maybe there’s a door to consider
or typewriters themselves sexy and willing
to be closely observed

talk about bricks dammit
spend an hour staring at one
until you have red dust and pitting down
until the brick’s all mopped up
and ready to be wrung out

here’s the pavement — kiss it
here’s the cobweb — swallow it
here’s a key — stuff it up your nose
brass smells of dirty fingers and ozone
gimme an epic about that scent — start maybe with

first time you noticed it was when your mother died
the keys were in the hand you bunched up to your face
you could smell and taste them mingled
with tears and varnish on the oak table
upon which you laid your head to weep when it happened

or something or other
some incident something or nothing at all
just talk about something real
rage has no flavor and neither does love
but bodies do and so does your blood

which until now you’ve been unwilling to share