I Would If You Asked Me To

Tom Blood

alley of the wind scatter up
wake to the world in a van
toss brick hands into thin of sky

I align my boots with day moons and other temporaries
a memory of quicksand in every step
this coat sits on me as a mobile home

I stayed a bird away, staring at page swans
dawn steam trees
alone, I pull open the sun’s gown
the cause for being, not stated, continues

if reference cannot be removed from reading
nor silos from nature you take on the way
comparisons not to explain or capture
but converse in tea taken
where mice quiver and drone
in cardboard homes behind the lumber yard
that trains circle like ferrets
under a pouring down paint night

then, an afternoon alley we return to quiet in sympathy
found like a feather on my pillow in the van
a memory I still ask about

arranging the swans on the table
all you need is an asking, I am yours, given
a sparrow expose, I am
swan figurine door open
when I bathe in you, in your maze
everything is dear and exchange

we see what is without asking
days scatter as daisy petals
pulling the sun up to the prison of days

I am in musk by the river alone
the sky moves swans in folders
seeing the trees my wan heat
I shat my head into the sea or river available to me
under a night boat sky
I wore a cape of waves, I grind my whale knees