Stacy Elaine DACHEUX
textures of context
inside a lovely of mouth she veers
with a stutter or low shoulder leaning
squared jaw caught against clavicle
a never of remembering how I fell asleep
she was unable to slur like all the other impediments
yet a luxurious laugh, a lumbering laugh she could execute quite properly
like Europeans drink wine, pinky finger flexed
breakfast or Frenchified toast we could be having
inside the morning of slow shutter speeds
of leftover rain from last night a blurring
of gray scale or water overflowing
within twists these sheets
there must be another side to the bed, so roll over, and my legs look like a lamb’s—and let’s pretend I’m a lamb who moos (or a wooly sweater that moves)—and let’s never pretend to be serious only seriously pretend under serious circumstances
there’s a shadow so varied it’s three-dimensional
against this streetlight and his face
slow grain softly merging
like this light fall
as she said she was
shy of speaking of transition of transactions of herself
yet she would try harder to elaborate on yes
this momentum of yes into yes all the beautiful yeses of she