poetry

  Exhalation
by Angelo V. Suárez

Her eyes are hooves on the necks of wild percolators.
I lift her hand & soap her nose w/ the bloodied feet of sofas.
Pillows are not umbrellas, yes, but her mouth is a looming lampshade.
She grazes her elbows against her chin & all is but a cellphone rings.
Fine porcelain drinks the cup & the water swallows the coral.
I brush her palm w/o strings like guitars cooking a gymnast.

My lungs walk away from her mouth & my toe steps on the ear
of our son. He nibbles on my nails like a playful hammer.
She is a hummer, I am. We are the products or aren’t of dairy.
He slips on her diary & diarrhea is a blessing. Outside,

a truck sings. She is a bottle of hysteria, I am. Consider
the consequences of a rosary: decades of love & athlete’s foot,
a triangle w/ 3 coroners. She loves my neck w/o w/c but a cellphone
rings. I brush her palm where a truck sings sofas. She drinks
the cup, swallows coral into water. Her throat is a warm minotaur,
I am. We are spoon & fork on the same horse. We pick petals

off electric fans, are electric fans on the run. She stares me down
w/ those eyes that are hooves on the necks of wild percolators.
She is a spectator watching sunrise on the ankle of a goat.
We immerse into the toward at the outset of inner thighs.

Redness is a curtain that echoes among the hungry, I am.
Together we slice the cabbage w/ fat dripping from under the arm.
A cellphone rings; it is a forever but. She & I are spooning
under the same horse. We are an everglade, I am. She croons
w/ summer’s flowers. She has feet w/ the density of rain.
Her hooves are necks on the percolating eyes of wild.

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