May Day

.

Today is a May day
and I am tent-faced

yellow swarms
are stiffering to flap-leaves-
I would cheek them, but oh,
those stingers never drip with honey

the deer with the pendulum ear
walked from Cimarron through eight lights
and a prattling fort (boys who’ve discovered splinters
are worth hand-built homes)

and licked the gravestone moss
'til he broke from the gates
(as lava wrinkles around stones)
and was struck by the car who’d sounded its horn

You were on the airplane
until breadcrusts soaked up the puddles
in your lap
from the pillow sweats of that small child
whose mother you’ll love in a month

and I am tent-faced,
dusting din from the sleeves
of the never-wash dress
and tucking silver forks
between the mattress and the wall