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75 GIrl #2 A lump of girl in square coal interiors (a box within a box within a box). A pandemonium of velvet striping, swelter and balm, such good. Oscillating and muscled thick. Torn dungarees, edged by cornfield , by heat lightning. Let’s get gone portly for hops, for lateness and sound check. A smile breaking open. A soft new sorry. (A box unlocked , opening unto another box.) Feels like progress. Stir of an old song, sways across the room, a voice slow as late summer honeybees, moving from one sticky flower to the next. Let me. Show you. This trustworthy voice in a field after dark. Gold there. Did you see? ...

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