The Jane Sonnet

[5]


Lemon mist & the crystal text my daily routine amidst

The best erection problems treating medication to unfog

My specs, though not in that order I’m ordering for you

What Laura found so damn dangling. Your participle

Imperative big hands, big nose, sockless feet come

Say “I dig your turpitude.” The poundcake when presidents

Die & dead presidents echo on, with or without

A spiffy canyon. All the digital photos fuzzed over

Anyway: pigtails, street sign, June gloaming, awkward

Smile gone like so much astringent cleanser & this is how

You “finely craft an image.” Said the dumber poet.

This is how “said” becomes “sd” & power disperses

Like lizards across the great obsidian lava bed just miles

From Bend, Oregon, where we once rubbed bellies on glass.