Two Poems

Custody or Visitation

I am still the woman you love. You are still
the man who I married. But the house is gaping
with ghosts, and our son is ready to leave now.
Now I'm still the woman with ghosts, mother
you loved, child who you married. And the house
gave birth to a son. And the son gave birth to
the woman. I am still the man with the coat.
You are still the ape with the apron. I am not
the ghost in your house. I am the body your body's
afraid of. Bodies crave consistency's succour. Bodies
seek a simpler moral. If I'm not the mind you love now,
then I'm not the limb you'll brush up to. Then I'm
surely the arm you brush up to but the strain
in the eyes, in the pull-back. And our son is ready
to leave now. I am not consistency's succuor. Will
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