I pray, dear Lord, that if I don't know when I'm wrong
that I will at least be man enough to listen to those who do

5.

The gradual changes of your pregnancy
were lost on me, mother, in eastern Nevada, 1956

until we visited my brother's grave
in Ely that day in early spring

The nature of sex was still unknown to me,
a mystery like the strange allure of Betty Boop

or the dreams and fantasies about the young teacher
with soft blue eyes who made me

take off my pants because the cuffs got wet
in a mud puddle on the way to school

and she sat me down in my underpants
behind a blackboard where only she could watch

but if I'd known then, mother, what you spared me
my desert Eden would have transformed into a wild

and dangerous place where bone black wolves
in trespass lap up bad blood and howl at the moon

where some part of you is forever buried alone
with only a small brass plate to identify him

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