Mountain Man
The love in this place
could make a person
squirm Multi-colored
peppercorns, face painted
peacock earlier it was
palm mutes and screaming
the boxing ring, which was
also the love Now it’s the wine
This is for real a to-do list
The love in this place
isn’t purple, but it’s pink
burgers just the way
you like them, the table
piled high with bills and books,
a grocery bag of still wet leaves,
that Agnes collected
to make art out of trees
Saturday is nothing,
or it’s the pinnacle of sap
Once I was a mountain man,
but it may have been
this morning, I shaved
in intractable three-part
harmony The sun
sets beautifully, and
it’s astringent, my face
full of Build-a-Bear and sparkly
plastic princess shit How
wonderful to run
all the colors together
in holy dissonance,
which is all and forever
and only about clashing
Why can I not do any of this
without the hops or the grapes
getting even The love
in this place will save us
or it won’t
Matt Hart |