to inhale a beer
on the first summer night

i can hear the boxwoods
pushing up into the heat outside
and i belong to all the dark wood
changing into light wood
branches in and out
i suppress the need to shout

if i could just walk out of here tonight
with angels clouding up the air
and let them own my "better" hair and clothes
my absent-minded loss of here and now

somewhere is that promise

my mother had that cloud of angels
all around her as she bent
to fix the filthy tiles half glued into the kitchen floor
she'd bend to make it better
angels always singing in her hair
and caught up in her plain clothes
angels saying Helen
somewhere in your dreams you do escape - you're flying

in your dreams
your knees on kitchen floors are blurring
and that smell is pretty wind
that's caught the boxwoods
wind that takes you out to where your children
fly in crazy ways
yet leave a better footprint in this world

to inhale a beer