Hard Tokens Plink

by: Tony Mancus

cold like quarters in the seed
how apples make friends
with what they fall into—hand or land

firm headed creature commune
skills the crane lost in flight
its uppermost parts pull apart

to lift the bottom of a building
vertical compartments in the skinny parts

a wind no window gathers
the strings on a foreign capital
play songs none remember

but the players sway and whirl into instruments
of the state—forget your health
insured with a staple gun and placard

what it means to slave your intestines, intention

see no whiskey on the bottle
just the rings for a cap
adjust the volume with tapwater
smiling your teeth to shine

glad to meet you handshake

formal attire licked into shape
the crust is upper and utmost
but the servers don’t shed no language

what tricks employed to forget
a constant disabling

the goals and holes to file and till
sheet snag sheets full of scratching
a whopping pile of stars

die in each blink
they’re not as sable as us
dipping our untied mouths

the unity of rapture
it’s high time we’ve cuttlefished
and inked up another
sopping wet letter

to eat the next plague
in each tearstain
to wait for the suburban lawn
burning each sunseason down

the long looks of the neighbors
on our faces
strange into strangled
a flapping shout made home

if it’s a car, they say, it’s only
exploding for a minute
and all the children lean
into their drive away

set their heads retired
with a wick
and flower
tilt on the stem

sugar mates coat to tongue
the forward facing parts
blister in the sun
like steamlights through film

watch you tough, shut touch
out while the whole field
dots with bugs—curtain
of live things for a day swat

sounds get tiny in each of us
through cans knocking along
behind the vehicle
wheels and horns and waves

so long liquidy heels
hours soaring on the walk
being and written in the same
gesture—milk on the ground

edicts won’t bait terse monsters
spray the regulars down
or at least their chairs
so no one knows which scent

to sit next to the mirror
in a way that makes the body
split and double—once my lips
stuck fast to the court of your yard