E's Cabin

Chump and churl am I

choking blood from the legs.

Locked knees, and all, y’know?

With the caps covered in

folded flesh

like a kid-licked bottom lip while

light-headed and hot.

I stand in the shower

hold M’sippi’s Mud

in one hand

memories of you

in the other.

Takin’ my sweet time.

Cicisbeo for palms to see

but a five-fingered picker

for the rest of ‘em

while porchin’ it

in the cold

rolled out in the mountains of

Idaho’s wolves and brotherhoods.

Smoke signals to the future

howled up from a “Haah!

Help-us-figure-it-out”

held in first to

hit the hardest.

Songs sent

to the outskirts callin’

home

the loose skin that

left us

alone.

I keep a’pluckin a knot of knuckled skills.

And we talk all about it

then we talk about it all.