Disobedience

The sky is oiled orange
gleaming along the metal
and matte of cement steps
Where she sits between
rainless thunderheads
and radiant heat
Motionless and at war
while shame battles anger
in ceaseless stalemate
A poem about a little girl sitting in a whicker chair, watching a parade go by from her spot in the bay window.
Mountains are earth, rebelling
Straining against dirt-ness
against gravity
Mother portions them out
one-eighth of a cup
in six mounds, cupped
A poem about a childhood adventure in imagination
A sudden car trip in the dark.
Your blue hands
curled in the coffin.
The hose is on
running clear into black
of garden earth.