Into the Breach, and: Her My Body, and: Love Song, and: My Walk

INTO THE BREACH/ Bob Hicok I want to teU them we can hear what they say. With coffee in hand or a hot fudge cream puff tell them. Tell them whUe offering blue sky on a plate or a river for their Uving room. Something to break the ice, that says I'm a man who wishes you nothing but opulence, but long days ofwind in the leaves. I'll always be surprised we're not equipped with fingers more telepathic, I want skin that brushing skin transmits my true dream, making trust and the handshake, making faith and the kiss one in the same. I would touch him on the shoulder as he waxes his car, would sUp my hand under hers as she Ufts a tray of nasturtiums, and they'd believe me when I say it's more than silence Tm after, more than a night's sleep made of ocean, deep ocean with me on top. They'd know in our house there have been The Missouri Review · 143 blood hours when biting each other with words we've stopped just short ofbone. Yet always with windows closed because someone Uke us might be Ustening, elbows on sUls, faces just beyond the reach of the moon. As last night, when he threw the punch of slut, we pushed closer and today just waved across the lawn at their shame as they stood on opposite sides of their car, wrule trying to be anywhere but inside their faces. 144 · The Missouri Review Bob Hicok HER MY ????/Bob Hicok The dog licks my hand as I worry about the left nipple of the woman in the bathroom. She is drying her hair, the woman whose left nipple is sore. We looked this evening for diagonal cuts or discoloration or bite marks from small insects that may be in our bed. It is a good bed, a faithful bed. A bed that won't be hurt by the consideration we gave to the possibUity of smaU though disproportionately strong insects in our bed. The blow dryer sounds like a jet taking off. The first time I flew to Brussels, people began the journey happy but ended with drool on their shirts. She is drying her hair though she has never been to Brussels. Drying her hair though she could be petting a dog. Drying her hair while having red thoughts about what the pain in her nipple means. I would not dry my hair in such a moment but I am bald. Bob Hicok The Missouri Review · 145 The body of the woman has many ways to cease being the body of the woman. I have one way to be happy and she is that way. I would like to fly with her to Brussels. We would not be put off by the drool. This is what happens when people sleep. We would buy postcards of the little boy who saved Brussels when he peed on a fire. We would be romantic in public places. For the moment these desires can best be furthered by petting a dog. Tm also working on this theory. That sometimes a part of the body just hurts. That the purpose of prayer is to make the part of the body that sometimes just hurts the Uttle toe or appendix. Something vestigial or redundant. Something that can be jettisoned. I have no reason to use the word cancer while petting a dog. There is a piece of a second during which a jet is not flying nor is it on the ground. 146 · The Missouri Review Bob Hicok Tm working on a theory that no one can die inside that piece of a second. If you are comforted by this thought you are welcome to keep it. Bob Hicok The Missouri Review · 147 LOVE SONG/Bob Hicok I am misunderstanding a song in Spanish. The song in Spanish not my confusion, though one day I hope to be confused in many tongues, to botch my days with polyglot savoir-faire. On my CD he's kissing her under a peanut butter sky. He's already asked the sea for permission to marry her pubic...