Growing(mgv2, 4/09)

In an act of earth

everyone hears a different noun,

words slide like glycerin

cough drops between tongue

and the mouth’s golden roof.

That’s where squirrels come

in, and owls to finish their report.

Teacups and spoons

and rags. Moonlight

leaves us nothing

to lift. In that long night

someone dreams of the school

room, questioning. Old

clothes upon old sticks upon old leaves.