Last light of summer glints off the motorcade

strangers are in the house

crowding the beds

as if a horse has fallen asleep

I try to adjust minimally

forms barely seen are arousing

laughter behind a shower curtain

a car turns around on matinee road

I become a horseman of antecedent

and in my review go on to mention

deadening repetition and brutality

on another page

gentle little euphemism

debt that calls compassion to the mound

to talk it out

and talking

open myself to rain delay

say wait I have been given the wrong grief

we’re in that area where people who can’t get in go

I promise and lean into the punch

my old car ran on nothing but signs

my ships are iron and my face is gone