Something Black and Red

Walking to work

Covering my ears as always

Past the scream and grind

Of savage machines

My feet deep in heavy snow.

Suddenly I saw:

By the construction site sat

Balanced on the edge of a curb

Something black and red

Under a thick layer of ice

Immune to the December sun.

In those days I didn't know

what a scarlet tanager 

looked like dead

or sounded alive.

The dead. But grieve they not.

The dead. But grieve they not.
And tears would drown their rot.
But us that breathe must grieve.
And us that grieve should breathe.
Inside I’m dead, shall never weep.
And fearing dreams I never sleep.
In fluid pain, I'm not afloat.
The desert in me needs no boat.
Alone and stiff, my island dry.
My stars appear blurry and bright.
Tonight the stars I hear them cry.
I dipped my toes in tears from skies
that poured like rain in my own eyes,
into my soul so close to rot,
my body its burial plot.

Land of the Dying and the Dead

Land of the dying and the dead:
Dead men in holes; undead inside
concrete sepulchres, speeding tombs,
gold mausoleums, paper vaults....

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.... 

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.