I been readin’ you for a long time
I just put Billy Boy to bed,
he got 7 mean ticks from somewhere
I got 2,
my husband, Benny, he got 3.

I can’t have it
and you can’t have it
and we won’t
get it
so don’t bet on it

and the sun wields mercy
but like a jet torch carried to hi
and the jets whip across its sight
and rockets leap like toads,
and the boys get out the maps

he spoke to mice and sparrows
and his hair was white at the age
his father beat him every day and
lit candles in the church.
his grandmother came while the boy

the critics now have me
drinking champagne and
driving a BMW
and also married to a
socialite from

when Whitman wrote, “I sing the b
I know what he
meant
I know what he
wanted:

never
even in calmer times
have I ever
dreamed of
bicycling through that

the wind blows hard tonight
and it’s a cold wind
and I think about
the boys on the row.
I hope some of them have a bottle

we are always asked
to understand the other person’s
viewpoint
no matter how
out—dated

when I look back now
at the abuse I took from
her
I feel shame that I was so
innocent,