Learning to Yawn

She always said to cough
with your mouth closed.
Only open it to eat,
or to say something intelligent.
Not something that sounded intelligent,
but was intelligent.
She didn’t expect to hear
much from me,
only the sound of my chewing,
lips tightly shut.
But I surprised her
when she got older
and life wasn’t so clear
as the numbers on her ruler,
but mauve and pastel.
Behind her back
I’d learned to yawn, to grin,
to show my teeth.



Eight Miles to the Gallon

Squeaky housewives sharing caffeine at Starbucks
during a break from hauling offspring
from point A to Point B.
Comparing notes on how easy
their husbands have it,
husbands who haven’t had sex
in more than a week
and masturbate at the office
to clear their head
so they can once again
concentrate on the job
and bring home the paycheck,
put gas in the damn SUV.

Raud Kennedy is a dog trainer in Portland, Oregon.