your grandparents…

 

(the ones who warned you

about dangerous liaisons)

dig up the back lawn

 

plant mars bars a red

bicycle hot poems

from sharon olds

 

gallo hearty burgundy

warming oil for chilly nights

a joint or two

 

so for harvest they come

between the rows —

whispers and moans

 

Lives We Choose

 

black lava

sun-bashed

mountains

lonely

road

 

her back to us

thumb out

held low older

hitch-hiker

knock-kneed slow

 

taking her home

she whispers of

years ago leaving

then returning

to live here alone

 

wind howls:

the mojave