nickel woes

i. my ears will grow a second skin like movie film /

spool me into a projector and turn out the lights / watch me,

whisper critiques, judge me / but i cannot hear you

anymore / hammer and anvil went to work mining in my canal /

tease epinephrine into my hair follicles / but watch the backcomb

for my hair will explode in-humidity-in-heat-in-tears /

ii. my sister likes to look for nickels in our airport

security checkpoint / each disk a treasure, each

handful of grimy change a prickle of hope /

i've never liked picking up pennies i found in

the parking lot, ground into the asphalt /

too dirty, too gross / and i guess i don't have

enough of that childhood whimsy to spare on

infested quarters and dimes /

iii. i douse my hip sockets in copper lubricant and watch them

swivel in my jeans / i've never known motion before, i guess /

file me away in monticello / find me tilling soil in the

virginia sun / i've always been a fan of manual labor, but never

in-humidity-in-heat-in-tears / i remember laying in the grass

with earring posts crusted to my lobe / insulting clouds,

praying for rain before we dry up and wither away /