Any Words You Need

Steve Klepetar

I don’t know if I spoke any words you need
here in the dark where I keep my chest
locked against damp and mold. Here are
my open hands. What has filtered down
to you in the beige underbrush? Parrots
or clowns? I have written your secret
name on my sleeve, I have kissed your neighbor
on her pouty, scarlet lips. We have passed
in the hall when cooking smells whipped
the secret air. I would change your aching
mind, if that would help, I would offer you
a pear. Even the mice here know your name.
If I could understand exactly how your pants
worked, if I could plan something for your
birthday, or provide a sample of your cooling
blood, you can be sure I would override
that cunning mother who always left you cold.


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