3 poems by Chad Sweeney

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INFLUENCE

Since yer a man and I’m a man
I can tell you straight:
the sun has hung its fences
between us

and history today; the tower’s
lapidary anchor toils in the sand;
a terrible frog is threatening Easter.
I stake my defense in the casual

predicate of the fire hydrant.
Prophecy in the morning traffic:
a bottle exerts its gravity
towards a nearby weedlet. 

Spiders listen for language
in the trembling of the pipes.
I stand as vertical as I can
and turn in tight circles. 

It’s what I’m good at.

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***

DIURNE

I listen to my heart beat
on the radio.  89.6 AM.
A prolapse then a whimper.

It’s fear and something else,
like black milk,
like static from a sermon.

My house arrives
through the internet,
its corners landing everywhere.

To be a red night
watched carefully by Bedouins.
To be a comma

between two really important
clauses.
A man in a parking lot

has a feeling of dread.
In the memory of that day
I can’t keep the wind in its box.

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***

DUPLEX

My lover shouted, “Help!”
and “Do it harder” and “Nap-
olean!” then blamed me when the
neighbors pounded on the wall.

I was half-asleep, where I spend
most of my time.  The storms
had blown out the candles.
We decided to drag the bed

back inside the house,
and make a fort with pillows.

Wind stirred the surface of the mirror.
In the deep glass, for several seconds
I saw her as an old woman.
I was spooning soup into her mouth.

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