Golf Ball nerves





 




   
Nerves like golf balls 
plucked from the branches 
of shaking hands

heavy pitted stomachs 
where hairy stones land




humming with warmth 
but too open to retain it 
stalagmites of shame
or whatever you name it 

crusty tooth rocks
dripping with hot lust. 
a clotted morning mouth 
felted together with morning dust 

the golf ball 
now rolls, straight down.

hole in one.


it clunks into the corner  
its stay has begun.