Letters

Wait in emotional houses
and send me letters inked in lemon juice:
citric acid reminiscent of a gumdrop childhood --
garden hose turned on at 3am by a disgruntled brother;
Mother washed sheets soaked in groundwater -- suds
slipping past mud and grass stains, lye
your air -- hands that turned down
softened bedsheets and folded back the rim
on your birthday cake, wielding a spatula like some Almighty
God of pastries and Tupperware -- you run past
the upset dishes and tumble backwards down paint-sleeved steps,
landing in damp grass under the lemon trees --

Send me letters sealed with candle wax, scented
spice and candy apple falling in dirt -- move
your pen over potholes and tootsie rolls in purple dishes
as ghosts scatter along graveled roads, your handmade
pumpkin cackles illuminated with dripping
tallow --

Send me letters stamped by cat paws, muddy running
in pureed grass pulp, clawing up the apple limbs to pick
the wormiest apple; tangled knees and elbows yawn
away the dusky bugs with slaps and swats while smoke pours
off of pine twigs, weedy sage, dandelion root tea simmering
next to the cat food bowl --