Honeysuckle

Summer my father hosed maggots from the curbed bins
While I learned rotting can happen the wrong way
Watching tomatoes whiten
From the outside in
Two fingers
Walking my bare arm tell me
About hardwater 
People pay to make softer
Horn of the train pulling spake me in clearwater
Gargle my throatsore
Pull of the pug mill smelter
Make sweeter me
Your daddy’s hot saw
Your daddy’s axe
My mother buttering the iron pan right from the stick
Then wrapping it back in paper
I had cysts on my legs that I pressed with hot compresses
I had insects pinned to glass
Rub with a hard thumb
My face like you could brush away
A blush
Check that it was real
You don’t need to wonder what I gathered 
From the divot
I know you from the bare fields where you can see miles
Chains cast for snowtires
A purpled welt
Making kettle noises with your mouth whistle
Balanced in front of the oil freight
One foot on the metal tracks
Hammering into anywhere
Lick honeysuckles puckered through the grates of the iron fence
Lick my sweetarms from the ice cream drips
Til licking starts to have meaning
Rust orangeing
I wanted to see if you would follow me 
Just because I asked you to