hot june

1.

i see those Mid West babies
with their noses to the water-logged ground
prone like curled up dead bees
groveling

and pressing
as the soak seeps up
and cools their lips
their scalps
their shoulder blades

2.

and i'm driving last summer
eighteen hours straight
with Richie

we see those aluminum pools in the fields
but keep looking straight
and flat to Dakota
we push the car to a hundred and twenty
when we can

in Missouri we talk about
how close to our old home we are
over the border and a little bit more
but really we can't stop

3.

and i'm driving with Sammy and Richie
this summer on a day
that stays sunny but breaks sweats of rain
we talk about Richie moving to New Orleans
how he's crazy

and i talk about how
we should buy the old mill
that dad lived in
when he was young and crazy

and i picture us in Virginia
with our three backs pressed to to cool
grind stone
loving and loving
the heavy emptiness there

4.

and i am on my knees
on the floorboards
the dust sticks in my mouth
and tastes like cinnamon
it cakes up my nostrils
and, i imagine,
makes a bit of mud in my lungs

5.

and i think about Iowa
the muddy sea beneath them
and how they hold on to the weeds
and let their bodies float
if that's what has to happen

how they kiss the flood

6.

and i think about how cleave
means both to cut
and to cling to

7.

and we would say, like a prayer,
Ohmaha, Ohmaha
where you been?



[this got kind of crazy long. the style's a bit all over the place. not sure about the order of the sections. thoughts?]