Poem in Which Grandmother is Half-Naked

Oysters & zinc.

The tongue lies in the mouth like a fish

unable to breathe.

Beef stroganoff, imperial gin martinis,

—rather, a bowlful of olives.

Bowl of nails

& muscular thighs

kicking up. Poor guy shouts.

A doctor’s reflex test,

but mostly this: I made an innocent man

Jesus & then killed him,

biting his tongue like an oyster

& slurping the iron finish.

She looked like a big little kid

when she opened the door in a long shirt

but no pants, & my mother went to cover

her small deflated bottom.

I wonder will they name her Pope.

We gals swim the Adriatic

in our shortest suits, praying

for suntan of the soul.

Surfacing from bedroom, NyQuil

& toxic,  thought I heard my roommate

run lines through the door, he’s an actor,  says

he’d kiss a man for a role,

& I dreamed of a guru

popping eyeballs out like bubblewrap.

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