Like You and My Knees

by David Veloz

I'm eating all the time,
but I need more. My shirt
fits like a wolf or like
a wolf suit on a woman
who starves herself for love.

My ribs rattle when I sleep,
my knuckles puff when I
crack them. If I ask
you to fish me out
of an icy jail or dress
me with your hands in your pockets,

believe me that my own pockets
are mouths like your mouth
around my hands, and my pants
are tight around the knees,
which is nothing like you and my knees.

Red in the Sun

by David Veloz

Bring home to me
my tools, my ladder,
and let me build
a kitchen or a patio.
Let my bald head
turn red in the sun.

I sleep outside
by the elm now,
I read at night.
Your carburetor
is shot, cranked
tight in the vice.

I keep your camera
in a sack by the gate.
There's film for what
I need. I murder
my thick heart
while I wait
to see you in
something blue.