Two Poems

  Why Wouldn’t the Moon Feel the Same Way The hospital rises in the path of the ladled moon, all that’s left of the night sky besides the wrapped reflection of the exhausts thinning above me, made of what from the hospital drones with everything, which exists in a hospital, think on it, heart attacks, strokes, gonorrhea, did I mention birth, did I mention miracle births, births that defy nature, that require the diamonds to hover I am in a Mac commercial, cordless, writing this outside on a well cool eveninged porch, only it’s a dell and it’s slow, stalling now, and the smog won’t sell a thing, but the moon behind the hospital, but a night just cooled from a day that stuck, then one of the naked couple that catches the corner of the sometimes eye in the house between I and that droning hospital, that monstrosity of even corners, she flashes across the window, is gone within and I wonder why wouldn’t the moon feel the same way   Seedy Motel On your back. My hand over the soft between cages, under you and pull. Looked at me, sober and straight as commerce, I wanted to help you. New towel in hot water, wring it, let it cool, hold it warm to your cheeks, doughy cotton exhaled into my giving palms, kiss your forehead, hum "Come Sunday" to you, whisper “warm sun, thick lawn, late June afternoon.” I wanted you to fall in the net I was willing to be so I could be mostly air. Looked at me, all woman, nerves grown resistant, most nerves, then your back was to me, on your left side. Your hip crescent. Fuck this smoke out of me. Went half on your stomach, propped on your elbows, arched your back and pulled up your right knee.