Kerri Shying R # 469 I am a bulldog with a peanut mumbling on the nothings

embalmed in the blazing rutilated moon  in my can’t-sleep space

legs akimbo  arms in windmill positions  pets  lavishly deployed

for comfort   for love   for the weight of their small bodies   and the way

that soaks  into my nervous system   to say   you are safe

be still let the thing go    mind    a churning mucky weir 

I am a bulldog with a peanut   mumbling on the nothings

waiting out the solstice hours  crushing on the sunlight

like some curl-headed  girl lover  on the surfer     I’m the

board  rising and falling   up the coastal tide  before

the waxen cuticle of dawn-light  presses colours

through the blotter   morning leaves    engraved upon the eye