Graft
At risk of my becoming anodyne,
you will be my crow’s feet and my laugh lines
Never mind the ugliness you see first
light, the surefooted at this pass will turn
to trench foot by nightfall. Just between you
and me, one of us will get the boot. By
the sweet by-and-by and all that creature
comfort, we sweat it out. We make like strays
and mange, mainstays as we are, holding tight
calling cards at the moment of impact,
at the soonest sign of glancing blows, at
the earliest whiff of what is inside
the kidgloved. Wring the blood out of this cloth.
Are you reading this right? Are you reading
me loud and clear with noise and all? Be there
a saving grace, let it for once add grace,
let alone the saving. Leave it stewing
Never mind the cooks and how many,
it’s just the two of us now. Take it easy.
Jacob Schepers is the author of A Bundle of Careful Compromises. His poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Dialogist, The Greensboro Review, Harpur Palate, and Heavy Feather Review. He teaches at the University of Notre Dame, and, with Sara Judy, he edits ballast. More at www.jacobschepers.com and @JacobSchepers.
The Mantle 