Ophidian: of, relating to,
or resembling snakes.
Focus: she is saying something
important about snakes.
She is telling you things
are exactly how they seem,
there are no strange invaders
in the shed. I focus on the shed.
The oval door sunning itself.
*
Punchball is playing tennis
with your fist. It’s snowing.
She’s chewing the scenery
to make it work. To be
somebody. To enter the hut
of the grandiloquent snow-beast
and make gestures of importance.
Pitch it. Open the eyes
to everything.
*
Spin around, nimble
blue monkey. Nutation: the act
of nodding the head. She opens
the fridge and a thing
wobbles outside of her vision
and hangs there.
I’m in the field
holding a frond and waving it.
*
The soft contemplation
of the woman weighing gold.
A jacquard is a nifty
kind of loom. An assembly of basenjis
flows through deep-faced night.
Not like me, of the hard time
focusing. Seems to be
a quick thing somewhere else.
James Grinwis is the author of two books of poetry, The City from Nome and Exhibit of Forking Paths. He co-edits the lit journal and chapbook press bateau.
Steel Toe Review 