Lunchbox Poems

I wish slitting the wrist of the clock

would let this moment last forever –

your tongue so deep in my ear

it feels like a paintbrush, coating

the dark, peeling walls inside my head

with a carmine veneer. I was expecting

you to run, when you saw the cartilage

in the closet. I was prepared to chase

after and whisper you have beautiful

footsteps, when the truth is you make

my toes tingle like the capital of Venezuela.

I know loving me isn’t easy – the all-night

helicopter parties, the glow-in-the-dark

haircuts, but when I look at you

it’s like praying with my eyes. I know

it’s stupid to not own a gun yet have

so many triggers, but in some other world

gigantic seashells hold humans

to their ears and listen to the echo

of machines. I apologize for the fossils

growing on the dishes, how the rug is covered

with cocktail umbrellas when you wake up,

but it was raining margaritas, and the stars

came on backwards last night.

JEFFREY MCDANIEL