The Story of My Family
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You're a tooth I tongue and tongue,
tasting blood as you loosen,

testing the sweet root of the hole.
The shudder and catch, the god spit,

and though I dip the bone in gold,
no lover wants to wear a necklace

of you. Carry you in my pocket
and you smolder. Sow the field with you

and you sprout in hours, white tips
thrusting through the meal soil—

one book says a bean pushes its husk
away, hauling the used body to the surface;

one book says the army is born whole,
fingers scratching toward any light.

 

 

 

From Theories of Falling by Sandra Beasley, 2008

New Issues Poetry & Prose, Western Michigan University, Dept. of English,
1903 W. Michigan Ave., Kalamazoo, MI 49008-5331
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