Maurice Oliver
“Red-Tipped & Semiautomatic” Sonnet

A pile of stones in my head put there especially
for this purpose. Wind almost out of breath.
Moss with the ability to grow on my lips. A
tattoo inked-in along my eyelid. Helmets all
in a row. Grasshoppers trying to outrun a
lawnmower. Antidepressants for a nerve gas
factory. A mantelpiece's beautiful song. Small
grains of blonde millet. Anything vogue. A vent
in the ankle bracelet. Three days in the life of
my undergarments. Boredom hiding-out in my
white socks. A poem with it's eyes glued to my
TV screen. Mythic experiences. Hives but not a
single bee. Chickens jammed under my armpit.
Grassy knolls that stay green straight through
December. Any softness that's grape-flavored.
Or two jackhammers, one of them unmanned.

***

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