by Heidi A. Howell
as each day passes we must ask
a good question – so today,
what law is to be followed now?
of rocks or dogs or entropy?
as we in our collecting breathing press hard for
the sake of that moist bloody air – millions of desperate
unhappinesses, waving between cilia – clenches
we notice that dirt varies from location to location
dust to clay to peat red black brown grey taupe
the beginning and ending is always sand
then a teacup
i might learn might die or change or break
habitual madness of unbending grass
skim skill skein skid
so the mother hands the toy to her child and says,
“look, i give it to you.
thank you. now you
give back to me.
she holds the child’s face in her hands to show her delight.
Working loosely in the experimental/ language/Black Mountain/ NY School traditions, Heidi A. Howell has published poems in online and print literary magazines, includingSHANTIH, s/word, Psychic Meatloaf, The Eastern Iowa Review, Otoliths, la fovea, What Light, So To Speak: A Feminist Journal of Language and Art, and the Washington Review, which nominated her work for a Pushcart. She holds an MFA from George Mason University, Fairfax, VA.