Robin Gow

Hoarder's Episode 4

                    I don’t know what happened it just got away from me.
 
A family of rust
 
laughing in the dirt
            and the soil.
 
A reunion of onion grass and
            buttercup children turning to razors
sharp enough to slice heels.
 
Driving shattered cars.            Wearing smashed rear-view mirrors   for eyes.
 
Metal turning scab-texture.     
Scab becoming capable of driving and a horn
           
 
buried deep and humming.
 
Garden of needles and portraits. Garden of
            nothing wrongs and everything perfect.
 
Garden of dead direction and                          floating miles and
 
            headlights as pairs of glasses.
 
How you can see everything singing
            and not want to keep it forever and forever
           
until it refuses to be anything but dust?          
 
How can you watch
                                                                        a rusted chain
and not consider
the possibilities of love and metal?
 
I’m not looking to be saved from wilting rubber.
            I’m not looking for a God in the brush.
 
I’m not asking for forgiveness but I am asking
            for observation.
 
Do you see the animals in
each appliance                         how the blender was a calico cat
and the toaster licked heated from the sun.
 
How the ovens stomach opens and closes
like a ripe cantaloupe.
 
            You cannot undo
my lineage                  
 
this is where we bud.
 

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Robin Gow's is a queer and trans poet, editor, and educator based in the NYC area. They are the author of the chapbook HONEYSUCKLE with Finishing Line Press and their first full-length collection of poetry is forth-coming with Tolsun books.