Sunday, March 29, 2015

Palm Sunday

Gazing heavenward,
blinking my broken eyelaces,
my snapped shoelashes.
Working my worn, greasy tongue,
my cracked rubber lips
to mutter some obligatory psalm.
Vultures plummet toward
the trunks of the hydrants
and turn into sparrows in the sunlight.
Every telephone pole a crucifix,
every traffic light a prophet.
Suspended from the wire,
black against the virgin sky,
I twist, a crimson pair
of Converse All-Star high tops.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Third Trimester Omelet

Sitting in the waiting room, watching the women turn into statues, the statues turn into animals, the animals turn into faces, the faces turn into criminals. Their posters still flutter from their tacks on the post office wall. You got knocked up in a storage closet at the end of a corridor lined with stamp machines while the ghosts of postal workers were busy burying their faces in their spectral breakfasts. The fluorescent lights buzzed. Bacon spit and shriveled. English muffins crisped black deep in the neon slots. Between your legs, an egg cracked, a thick stream of viscous liquid oozing down your leg. You dabbed the corners of your lips with a paper napkin and decided to have it anyways.

Sunday, March 22, 2015


All I want to do is lie
on the windswept earth
and stare through my breath
at this empty matchbook
with its black and white photograph
of a bare-chested girl
until the sun goes down
and the frost creeps across
the fallow fields
to kiss my toes
with its cold white lips.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

The Kingdom

A wet, trembling glove
on the end of a pole
eased into the gap.

Limp fingers stroke
the damp pile of fur inside.
A stick to prod, a rag to sop

and something for the jaws
to clamp down on.

Keep breathing through
the nostrils keep pawing
at the hard clay.

The frayed end of a rope
dangling from a hook
driven deep into the trunk
of a fallen tree.

The dry stalks of the field
bow to their king,
an empty length of concrete pipe
forgotten in a culvert.

They await his orders,
the sound of the wind
roaring through

his royal throat.