the fall

dampness.

and breathing moss in this gulled city

with this solid mass of gray pressing upon my head,

i fear: if i respond to the unwavering clouds

with their misted

honeyblood whisperings

i will slit me.

slip away, drop away

to night long ago not yet

at the side of some sea

and taste salt in my nose

and feel winded milk push

violent in my flying hair

and those buttered balls of star hover

right     above     my      head

and cold sand packs in my pantyhosed feet

winter between my toes

tick tock tick tock i walk

that watery edge and

around the air, around the waves, listen:                  .

silent neverending. 

hiss,  petrichor

exhaust, smeary glass

too bright green

under ash 

shore away, shore away

and the stainless steel skylid

muttering pewter in my ear.

a prayer or something like it/mother mary

complex angel, gentle turtledove, you sweep my mind free from the snarling silks of convention. you graceful, you sharp sighted, you steadfast and proud, you intelligent queen and confection, you fantastic, you vivid, you light, recall me how mad the attempt to disguise myself or deny myself… .  we are many things combined but we are not shiny trinkets. 

remind me that nature cannot be more:  not outwitted, improved upon, finer.  you beast from whence I do not know, whose aspect is simply that shine, pray with me.



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previously published in Dappled Things, spring 2011