Pogs

by Collin Garrity

how gently do I stretch
onto my wrist this watch
reaching into toasters knives
for love making the dust
to dustpan swipe from which we come
a sift of love making small orgasmic
lifelessness the thoughtless methadone
in our useless brick bat homes
having accepted the world
once in childhood now retaining
only the restless memory of a knife
I brought to kindergarten
in Brussels to scare away the bullies
who ran and told the teacher