Four Poems
In the Guest Room
The young man in damson velvet pants
and in the subway the scarred aerialist
I abruptly hugged
and had to hurry away from
lest I be held for questioning—what
are they thinking
right now?
Is he carefully
are they thinking
right now?
Is he carefully
picking up the new kittens one by one
and examining them
before he drops them in the sack?
Or is she running through
