Me & the Devil are rivals for God’s affection.
A short ride in the van, then the eight of us there in the heat—white shirtsleeves sticking,the women’s gloves off—fanning our faces.
Sin, thy name is this wait—this place— a long ways from Here to There, from where
Black mite over the page, furious meander of a period untethered. Black ant over my toes lifts by chambers like a lock.
Not plumes. Not plumes from the teapot’s throat. But force, unseen, the space
So what if he was old enough to slough her off? The night of her news he made an exception—
Sleep, shelter me. Shuffle me back into the deck where I belong—
