Solstice Poem

My sophomore effort has a frozen coyote kind
of smile, what you think of as a dirty energy

source popping out all point 
of view. She is focused on the first 
person like a catbird

tasting Clementines. Only boxes will do
for our indigo tootsies now. 
How many punches to the center

of her gravitas before she gets smoother
than the mashed potatoes and drafts out
of here on harpy steam. I think as maw

and paw but I cannot pull 
the pipe out of the architecture. 
You cannot hack a mummery

based design. Melatonin begat
Melanie and Sarah out of 

Seratonin. This is one of the reasons
we have lamps and we also have fire.

Promise Ring

When the horror materialized I was noodling
with my boots on and waiving everyone’s
signature. Since then I know I have arrived

with keys where the fingers ought
to waggle but teenagers do not enter
into it. I didn’t want this way back when

I was mean. It is an accordion effort
just to breathe with you, to align snouts
and buttons and no jumping to conclusions.
On the idiot box a woman in poltergeist

drag and all my instincts chewing out
of me like field mice. I thump the cushion
away like a professional but can’t tell

you where the hawk will land. Crook
of your consciousness, funny bone
splintering danger in 

the dog’s soft palate. Cool as a bowl
of anti-freeze that holds
still the moon’s reflection  

Jen Tynes edits horse less press and is the author or co-author of Heron/Girlfriend (Coconut Books), See Also Electric Light (Dancing Girl Press), The Ohio System (w/ Erika Howsare, Octopus Books), and The End of Rude Handles (Red Morning Press). A chapbook, Pins & Needles, is forthcoming from Cinematheque Press.