"POEMS"
by Jay Marvin




HER
FAMILY REUNION
MY LIFE






"HER"
(for T. Russell)

Wet gray sky rusty butcher knife on the kitchen counter	
in the cool dark of his air conditioned trailer he sits bound
to a chair sentenced for life by twisted metal and bloody steel
he watches her across the way young brown Navajo skin
legs light muscled and fine showing herself to him the sweet
skin surface driving him mad he has nothing from the waist down
he remembers what it was like when female flesh came to him
in the dark smell of sweat and sex it hurts he hungers for
her touch the dark thatch between her legs a place to put his
aching tongue and she knows what he wants and she shows it
to him from her window her fine brown skin squeezing his heart
hurting him with every piece of her clothing she drops by the fading
sun the two of them in a downward dance until he picks the knife
up and ends the mad waltz opening an artery in his neck a pool
of shiny blood at the base of his chair he writes her name
with a bloody finger child like scrawl at the end do we ever really
go away or do we climb back into the dark womb we came from
tonight she takes it off again no one to watch she waits naked skin
sparkling brown under the moonlight's bold caress waiting for him
sure tonight she'll feel his touch under a sky wet with the sickness
of death and loneliness. 



"FAMILY REUNION"

It was spread out a cedar picnic tables among green grass
flying insects and a slow breeze dead meat fried honey brown
corn kernels yellow and swimming in hot polluted water plastic forks
spoons the colors of the rainbow and beer cold sweating
ready for mouth and tongue I sat eyes on it every bit of it
silent rage wanting to become vocal smash meat corn break
plastic kill the head of the table his throat cut and pouring
punch bowl red liquid the others on their knees like I was
the Christ child come to take them to fields bloody with
envy and wanting but none of it happened instead I sat
silent tearing flesh from bone swearing this was the last
fucking time any of these people would see me again
the next time would be on a cold slab a self inflicted
bullet hole to the head.




"MY LIFE"

The rain pounded the windows and bent the palm trees
small groups of people made for cover the sky dark
the stench of sulfur came up out of the overflowing
drain pipes and gutters I called him up to talk about
the hard edge the line the thought no one wants to
read about the desperate living day to day in broken
down house trailers alone and drunk with their thoughts
he said thunder crackling in the background they want
love tress stars plenty of commas and periods the sooner
you get this the better off you'll be they want cars TVs
football and fuck films they don't want to hear about
the feelings of others write about CEOs and you'll
make print then why don't you do it I asked? The difference
between me and you is I except my exile right here where
I was born and you don't you want something you can't have
no one wants to read about death he grumbled yes they do
I shouted above the pouring rain and thunder they'll want
to read my suicide note if I leave one. We both laughed
and I hung up listening to rain and waiting for something
anything to happen to break the monotony of my own life
something to act as a stop gap against my own death.