POEMS IN PROGRESS

SCIENCE BRAIN

Love is a biological molecule but smaller, freer and shiftier than any other.

It may be resistant to my reflexes, which are tentative.

I am clumsy at the sequencing of bases.

ASSIMILATION

The first boy she fucks points them out.

They aren’t a deal-breaker.

Same in the mirror as those of her aunt Sadie

Whose shtetl-growns were knocked out in a brawl with an aroused Cossack souse.

She yells, “At least I have them.”

He smokes cigarettes fist-wise. She smokes that way, too—just in case.

His appear stable, square and white like American houses.