Remember the first apartment we chose? When it was time
for us to finally live together and we had to find something fast
and imperfect. With the landlord who barged in every time we were too
loud—I think she had an 8 p.m. bedtime.
Before she could drink from the garden hose
a cardinal landed on her wrist
and plunged its beak into the clear bubbling.
Nineteen and drivin my fly ass whip,
to Malvern to visit my grandparents.
Could taste freshly killed bird and home
fries cooked in a skillet cast in 1914.
I’m still not sure I really saw the car—shiny red
on a day that was a long green nap—go airborne.
‘The Wild Animal’ comes out of a project I worked on during the summer of 2008, in which I made myself write at least one ‘poem’ every day and I didn’t allow myself to look back or revise until I had reached 200.