Justin Hyde, 2 poems
this morning as we walk along the iowa river
she wants a promise of forever.
i want to tell her: if your ex-husband put down the bottle
i think you would go back to him; the way we sometimes spend
all day arguing about a speck of dust in a pot of gold exhausts me;
the way you treat waiters-waitresses—& your own children
terrifies me; all these things ossify
into an ineffable equation
i want to put all that
in the palm of my hand
gently blow it
into her ear.
but i’ve learned
are often scalpels.
so i bend down
pick up a flat purple rock
off the sandbar:
full of words like:
three-sixty moon savage as owl:
thighs like seals
in a polar bear’s