3 Poems

Alli Warren

SOAP ROCK

In those days men had to have
a memory for many things
to drive off wind and favor
the seed a narrow belt of springs
cast across the heart of the land
and light like glass
To set oneself up in white
in this fever-ridden valley
beyond all wavecrash
where it is still possible
to dine today to bear boasts
from a firm sedan chair
with a bung at the back
laid out under oak
for love of returning
to the source
wine, lavender, women
of easy virtue
she looks good when you row
Come, know the privilege
of distilling it
the cooling tube of the still
cold meat & oat cake
jawnz domestic and official
yield up the breast and sing
and do not blush for it
Bring my ghost a calvados

PLOW POSE

I feel like it’s a matter of economics
this rotgut wine
and bad lilt
it takes an industry of
experts, spreaders
their dual-purpose
for tillage and for trade
packing on the path
carting on the plain
who will account for
the kingdom is interested
in crossed high spears
is this the proper place
for oppositional defiant disorder?
that’s the second time this week
my mouth’s mouth
by turns inflated & empty
yanked on the latch to say
in the ether and the air
in the fire that produces things
the fairly specific things
you do with the left hand
the yawning and starting to rub
in the dark middle
in a package
in what is wet
in the tempo of circulation
from a single satellite
how I hold it up as firmament
of joining through distortion
the bread is plentiful
and life unstrenuous
in bright array
honeycomb in the drone

THROWING A ROD ON THE BENZ

It’s vintage, so you know
I would even breathe
peep-toe to match
churning the inert
banging the delegation holding
that rancid hoop steady
Everything elemental, abundant
the dirt the sticky wilting
the agents in their wetlands
back in the lime-house again
You’ve heard of power riddled
with cracks & vacancies?
The culmination of the surge?
Well, true swag attends the detail
of every rod, bumping parlor
to busting larder Those others
on lockdown hand-holding
17 miles from the nearest
nut butter facility
no penultimate gesture
no kickback for deputies
Allegiance to the Benz
Allegiance to the flooring
and furnishings your froggy
affections can’t confiscate
this unified gait how it nuzzles
coat color so steely
Stompers may cling
But racing life is more concrete
You have to ask if he should be
ridden at the flying pace?
Watch the way I bust
after a long night hauling
on the budding plain
It’s like I’m not just lying around