Here, we
Eyeball people
Speak fine body language:
Haphazard stretchers, you dancers
Must walk

*

Now, we
Eardrummers hear
How summer’s snuck into
Your stoic, winter poetry
Talk right

*

To touch
Is divine but
To grab is a crime but
To grip is to get it – do you
Feel me?

*

Forget
Those rosemary
Flowers sprouting outside
Ten hundred buildings in my mind?
Herb oil’s
Soaked through
My ten fingers to those chicken
Bones, limp sprigs, garlic bread
Crusts (“Scrape your plate!”)
Forget?