Seeking Closure

Behind a dark peak
Of clavicle bone, my two
Faiths sunset afresh.

American Crow

So near a starved/sick American crow,
And spastic flaps of both her frosty wings— 
Perhaps a sign of life-force in passing—   
Beneath shade, of huddled slouching willows,
(that seemed concerned as if the young bird's folks),  
I stood, my back against the gnarled barks.
Unread are rimes God Almighty's composed.

Awash in flurry here was I at once 
In spry bodiless feathers, iced, rainbowed—
Perhaps those of a violet-green swallow—   
Tender as tulip petals, dewed berry; 
Or voiceless flame long sapped, and sewed long slow 
Into the seam of dark, the graceful corpse; 
by glacial gusts anatomized, unmourned. 

Sergeant's Wife's Orders

Mosquitoes dead so red against the glass. 
In wok the frog legs jump and dance, sauté.
The keen scent of citrus and lemongrass 
of cleaner won't allay my nerves, tonight.
Kangaroo paws and dogwoods, pinks and mums, 
police the flagstone walkway.  Sergeant's wife, 
her boyfriend, with their standards, class, and such,
would they consider this bit strange, bit trite?
Bring the caviar, suckling's head, and change
out of your gray jumper.  Recall they asked
for black pudding, sweetbread...I know the guests
will judge us people always judge you judge.... 

Rain

The rain must pour, the windows fogged; 
The gurgling cyclone spits and gongs
inside the bone-spring of acid 
where mucus seesaws up and down

The selfsame fountain feeds my eyes 
Aboil as conscience of a saint; 
or fish soup that prolongs the strain 
of homeless underneath the rain. 

You Said

You said
Wish you
Were dead

Your mouth had opened and the words fell out 
Your tongue the launchpad of guided missiles
Your lips the gates of your inner prison

Each one feeding the same shy blossom 
of suffering, reopening the same wound in me
with their alphabetical poison, sinking like ear drops.

It was much later, at five o'clock in the evening,
sitting on my fast rocker, pouring wine, enough
to wash the brain, immerse and suffocate it....

That I recalled you never said nothing to me
except with your eyes and left corner of your lips
that raised enough to let out a sigh full of dead words.

Dirty Eyes

I woke up covered all 
In fragments of a dream,
All sticky like the scent of skunks
That sprayed my storybook last night.
—Wash up!  the voices shrieked 
And pushed my head madly beneath
A pool of tears until I drowned 
Again inside another dream.

So tell me whose tears were that soaked 
The leaves I'd flipped through all last night 
With every flutter of lashes so moist.
So speak but make it soft and clean
And hold my hands and smile and joke
And only then describe my nightly scene 
The screens projected on my twitching lids 
The ghastly films my dirty eyes have seen....