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