​​​A hot night for any animal, a stilly night

Aria Hughes-Liebling
A hot night for any animal, a stilly night

 
A hot night for any animal
the way I’m scared. A stilly night.
In the shade of the living light,
it was first the mouth
or first the child. Was
first happy and heavy bodied-
someone
I loved and
there was no drawl, no long earth.
Soothed myself,
admired
with so far
as a muscle
and the soft car
holding someone I loved.
Made me up,
washed her near
three colors and
two colors of metal.
Tied to the only apples eaten.
How so many apples-
the bad apple, two bad apples,
how one eye
lipped on me and went sideways.
Can’t talk about that or
tackle already big
writing. But having
a baby, getting married.
Moved the several times.
Left behind a morning wall,
floors. Was the army,
whatever not to screw and
wash only. Mostly stilly nights.
Brief, alone, to be used wisely.
A gift
from good people. Our note,
thank you.
Roman in Rome,
I felt that day, a hot night
for any animal. And I
admired myself while
they grazed. Flipped over
to see you good
looking- it says here
things are low- bed rest
– certain death- is a dart home.
And I ran the water. Speck
of a large wraparound porch
where she loved me the same
as my belly between
straight arms. Could feel it
through five names. Made sure
my horse got shot.
Though I’d seen rugs
being beaten in movies,
documentaries in which
I’d been uncomfortably
cast in clear water.
Where she’d kept to herself
a bag of apples,
a baby, a dog. I used a mop,
a vacuum. I cleaned with
a toothbrush and
powdered bleach. I’m almost
moving south this time
and it’s nights mostly
to put onto paper and
handwrite for the first time in
weeks.