"People Swell" by Corey Minor
She is coming by again and
I will get her name.
She is coming by again
to idle by the sleeves of records
all bluesy and smoking a K.
She is coming by again
to ask for my brother. I tell her
he’s not here and her features
fall closer to the cleated welcome mat.
She is coming by again
to see me off; we share plates
of eggs for five mornings.
I see her in time.
She is coming by again
to snatch the chocolates
I keep locked at the stump of the ashen
tree. There is a box there and she ought
to have a key; she throws back
the lid and leaves a vine of swollen grapes.
She is coming by again
and I will kiss her, I
have decided. Her lips are
spider-webs and
if ours touch they will never
part. Behind the suckled pig
her eyes are like pitch.
Is she coming or going
and I would like to know why,
definitively, she thinks it
okay to leave in the sun-chair her
underthings for the sons and odd girls to
pilfer. I have seen them in rooms at night
together, prodding the corners with fingers and
pressing fabric to bulbs, shuddering.
She is coming by again and
I will get her name.
She is coming by again
to idle by the sleeves of records
all bluesy and smoking a K.
She is coming by again
to ask for my brother. I tell her
he’s not here and her features
fall closer to the cleated welcome mat.
She is coming by again
to see me off; we share plates
of eggs for five mornings.
I see her in time.
She is coming by again
to snatch the chocolates
I keep locked at the stump of the ashen
tree. There is a box there and she ought
to have a key; she throws back
the lid and leaves a vine of swollen grapes.
She is coming by again
and I will kiss her, I
have decided. Her lips are
spider-webs and
if ours touch they will never
part. Behind the suckled pig
her eyes are like pitch.
Is she coming or going
and I would like to know why,
definitively, she thinks it
okay to leave in the sun-chair her
underthings for the sons and odd girls to
pilfer. I have seen them in rooms at night
together, prodding the corners with fingers and
pressing fabric to bulbs, shuddering.