the fracture of nosediving goats on the damning first rain coast

predaceous radial clock family manufacturer humming Four Tops
where once there was the trauma of marriage and abuse
wearing the gardening gloves of deleterious misfit enchanters
his body an expression of tainted needs or corners that have left
espresso resting at the corner on the crackled blue overhead porch
the first break did not stop the minor second or the major third
open two chairs and a plastic table perfect for father’s whiskey
the broadcasting of thoughts swallowing the spine of speech

or the children’s quarter bags or mother’s re-plantings of roses
the unexpected surfacing trauma in the witnessing of a plague
and trials, this weathered porch was the envy of the street,
always remembering father’s canvasing and blaming his ex
one of the sharpest in the tailor park, “no one got hurt”
assumed he could give consent, she was guilty of not getting help
“in those walls, that’s for sure,” they assumed, misdirecting
the yelling never stopped like a wheel within a wheel

the absence of cop visits for no familial abuse and no
youth to adulthood always left him at the mercy of those angry
as no doctor did ever pause the control that would lead
to God’s trials that gave him symbols that made sense of this or
a life of disability, no adult, no council member,
his love not meant to be placed in the heart of another,
no clergy, rabbi, or priest ever found time to intervene
one more calculating father or lover or doctor taking control, free
from suspect, “Keep on loving me / Bernadette, keep on needing me /
Bernadette” – the goats are barking at the fomenting Alcatraz night

the minor second when he met her, the major third in the end of it
she took years from him with the authority of a farther taking life
time placed flat on its belly never to soak in the damning rain coast –
being a flippant nosedive into the worldly cafe as the pilot monitored wed dens,
soft adjoined falsetto trials into our new chisel-spoken, riled, careful, thin steps