Conversation with Love Poem

Viola Lee

O, breath that turns to white cloud!

O, when in doubt, bring in the elephants!

I will admit it: the house is a blade.

It is even sharper when the lights

are on. This is what I think about when I see

nudity: my breath is a white cloud.

Boo hoo on the family. The family

is a combination of T-shirts left out to dry.

You woofin; you woofin with yo kicks

and ice like glass. My ice always says

bling, bling, foshizzle. I am talking

to the kettle. I am talking to the kettle.

The kettle is you. I will admit it. I ate venison

over the holidays. Knowing: this is deer.

Knowing: this was killed and left hung

to dry. Some days, I talk to the house.

Other days, you and I become the historians.

You, me, we in the whip. Together we

fackin, woofin, fillin up grills.