Osprey
I.
My son–in the brookweedInnocent–to the extent
that a boy caught between a young man
and an old childcould be–these headlands
could be–this man-child I beget
soon will come fucking
the lithesome behind sedges
osprey in a repertory–lifting ecstatic
“the quest for satiation is urgent”
as though pulled
invisibly by kedges
II.
Lust–there is no way to know when it’ll go squnk
in his pocketosprey–invisibly by kedges
after a hive of bugs vibrating–soon jacking-off
becomes chronicMy son–in the brookweed
your daughter–the direct object
of my son’s
gooey sockets–perhaps the function of gum blown
pervertedlyI change his bed sheets–“a conspirator of emergency”
III.
How dearly, I thoughtthere is no way to separate–his loin
is intransitive–the palm from the cock. It does not take
a direct object, it is a hedgelike a brunette crotch.
I clean sheets, they fold
pervertedly–your daughterO repertories of flesh
I taught the boy to hold onto it
verticallyas though skimming a rock–said if
the arrogant thing on him
liftsapparently refuses to drop, and “the quest for satiation is urgent”
you must drub it
to stopthe brookweed quivers–the spleen
seems to flocMy child–carefully
puts a bug in his pocket