Mark Lamoureux

Small Hands
New Poems From the USA

 

Bundled as grapes & handgrenades:
              penalties & sluices,

postapocalyptic hairshirt for
              a gussied avenger
                             or defender or some other
                             kind of pansy saint I can
                             make a rainstorm with my
                             hands by thinking about
how all the sleek fish are better than me,
the sleeked psychics &
              usurers:
                                                         Fear of Spiders
                                                         Fear of Wounds to the Hands

Please do not touch this ovoid. It is in need of repair.

In my dream the river broke, her face broke & was your face underneath.
The window exploded onto my hands. Lateral cuts like a new tattoo.
I’m sorry for my dreams where things break.

Walking on the sharp stones is reflexology.
              Couldn’t follow you into
              the cotton tunnel didn’t want to
              want to
kiss you in the art.