Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Remotely, a Red Star, Our Most Fiery God

Glitters and sharpens. Planets are lamps.

The moon is a plain woman with hair

Skinned back staring through lashless eyes.

In the stealth of autumn, cicadas whirrrrr

Like wind-up toys over the lawn.

Grasses sparkle in their black tombs.

The sky is a cauldron of light

That dies and dies. I consult the oracle

But I am as blank as night.

Tonight I no longer carry a fever

For a heaven. I only wish to haunt.

It is time for me to slip

From the noose of my body

And fly over the studded

Landscape. It is time to find

Those who have wronged me in life

So I can rise up in the windows of my damned,

Eyes gleaming with accusations.

Let them remember me as beauty shrinks away

From their gums, when bereft winds blow clotted with leaves,

When apples drop from the trees like bombs.

October 9, 2004

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