Brian Dean Bollman – 2 Poems

Brian Dean Bollman

2 Poems

Sock

drive mother of Edinburgh green lover slouch     you slouch mother     green    mother green    lie in wait     past fear weather cold morning in June brother June    how’s house sitting pretty      mother young mother where ceiling meets winter where blouse meets skin where house sits green where your brother lives     a cold morning clear old southern California suburb mother sticks to memory like church     and      you can’t tell because you don’t know You     just don’t know what your dream is you  drive you turn the corner and there are several words in order that mean something      to you       asleep         now they shift shape     and     you get up and  you can think of a blouse with a woman’s skin in it     a blouse that opens not that you are thinking of it    open but it could       open it is the open-able aspect of it that compels a ceiling and old suburban neighborhood with its concrete retaining and low     morning sun memories of unwanted church Afternoon Break Lying in my car thinking   of a woman with big eyes who looked   with skin clear that smooth ashen dark hair against and yet not pale     her lips a fleshy  umber an exaggerated cupidity fawnish       startled I imagine     kissing her trying         to cipher the experience large lips around          a small mouth      she seems to suit                        further          beneath her shirt         my arms                          back                                      and they seem to                                                  fit a woman opens the door invites me into a long corridor leading into the inner basement of the library