Peach Woman
She’s saying
I wish there could be a metaphorical
investigative committee
and I’m saying
therapy or a priest?
and, behind us,
the excellence of bright children
and, on our walk home,
the left glove
and I’m saying
I’m fueled by kissing and crimes
against the environment
and she’s saying
the cat shaped depression in this cushion
the necessity of the cat
and I’m saying
I’ve never met a silk sheet I didn’t want to ruin
and, at home,
the fingerprints disappearing
from your grandfather’s coat
the way we carve people out like water through a rock face
the way we read it on their faces
like laundry lines
like clouds