"Portal" by Nathan Parker

I've grown tired, walking stupidly around the houseSaturdays, picking up shoes and receipts,rooting through the freezerfor a cookie or a portal,sitting on a cold piano benchwith a glass of snake bloodclanking through Schubert, Brahms, Waits,unscrewing spider-sinewed blindsto see if anything is happening—a serious couple in headphones chicken-flapping their shouldersa cat bullying something in the grassa brunette in her underwear walking a German ShepherdI want to help people.I want to sprint around the blockand sprint around the blockand collapse on someone's porchdo you have a dusty Wurlitzerand a potroast you can't eat all of? I want a visitoror a piece of mail.In the dream the house was dark.Fire sweetened wood and wax."Are YOU sweet?" it asked…Early mornings, with burned gown and blah feetI love to squeeze at the shaggy lawnand breathe in light rain. The lost diesel truckat the four-way stop is a little terrifying.The look the driver gives me isn't nice or mean.It just says I don't know you. 

Nathan Parker's first book, The Locust Diagrams, is just out from Noemi Press. He lives with his wife and three children in Northport, Alabama, and teaches English at the University of Alabama.