Sean Kilpatrick



Hush


I sat up that year.
My head was leashed by smiles.

Some trees attacked my dictionary
in the name of progress.

My cousin's skin
was followed by chocolate.

She died of
tasting too good.

I kissed my chainsaw to sleep
and rode the forest home.

It stayed in my bathtub
orgiastic.





Protea Flowers


I brought Protea Flowers from South Africa.
She used them to break my cheekbone.
I married her immediately.
She boiled and drank my flowers.
I sang righteously about the veldt,
how sound elongated it in the petty dark.
She said I want you to practice being in a coma
until your piano shudders at my touch.
Cradled in our nest of blankets on the floor,
her music made my sleep twitch.
She glued butter knives to my stomach.
She said Don't let me catch you taking a seat.
I complained Hide your shoes in another
closet if you're going to talk to me.
She moved into the tub, the place I had never been
and refused to go. I had to scrub
the echo of her voice from the bathroom walls.
I said I'll see you in court. She poured out
all my African waters and franchised my tears.
The judge granted weekend visitation.
Sobbing was strictly forbidden.