The Book of the Umbrella
I brought you the box of digger moths.
I hid you in my good umbrella.
Could you take the other
of this in your mitten
& make a shield with me?
The spell finds you & you fold like a cloak.
how many baths are you allowed
Here are the birds & what theyve
said makes a book of your hands.
This sadness a sieve.
The twin sisters got it like a powder on their
naked shins, rinsed
The score was printed on the inside of his ribs.
These are the tools theyll pry you open with.
& these are the tools I can fit in my pockets.
Your voice to lift
the spell from this opened melon.
Watching the sheep
the hole in his nap.
the vent &
from their mouths
came into the boy
through a satellite.
Bones smelled of milk & aluminum.
& why wont the secret
I called your name twice & a boy
with your name showed up
with all the animals from the road.
If sleepy, then keyhole.
Joshua Marie Wilkinson's most recent book is Lug
Your Careless Body out of the Careful Dusk (Iowa, 2006), and two
new chapbooks are forthcoming from Octopus Books and Pilot Books. He
teaches at Rocky Mountain College of Art & Design and at University
of Denver and has recently completed a collaborative book with Noah