Bull

 I don’t like how black and whiteyou make this day, the morningthe color of old newsprint again.Let me collect the paper clipsfrom your office drawers and constructa suspension bridge from your deskto mine. This city needs a river.Those men at the park would fishout of a toilet if they had to.I want the sound of petticoatsto fill in for the trainsand these itchy birds.I don’t have room for youin any of my drawers.The steel factoriesmade the city look like a war zone.Anything white came homeblack. Want me to put on thesegoggles and sit in this jetin the airplane museumand try to get you to the heavenyou believed in? The petticoats have to becolorful, not the white onesI’ve been wearing under my skin. ____Elizabeth Hughey is the author two poetry collections: Sunday Houses the Sunday House (University of Iowa Press) and Guest Host (National Poetry Review Press). She is the co-founder and Programming Director of the Desert Island Supply Co. (DISCO), a literary arts center in Birmingham, Alabama.