Do Not Open
unlatched
to fall,
is a letting go
the foot leaves
the tree stems
stimming us
with a wobbling
fidget cannot replace
but does, asked or axeless
with that maddest intent
to hold on, to hold off, to
holler bloodlet, labour,
holler jaundiced dying
holler onyx, Blackbox theatre
holler fake fire! immolation
the trunk in flames
full of faith, knotted
with note of warning,
Signed "Pandora," closing
Only People.
In isolation
it is They.
They the scattered
puzzle's parts
that lay
obscuring one
another overturned
upside down, sideways
in glances
a mess
we'd say.
Catching a glass
reflection
the taste bitter
pleasant, ruddy.
I deserve that reprimand
burning my tongue.
The tableau idyllic,
full cups, steaming
no piece missing
the scene.
Only people.
I Sang in Eulogies
The way
we trek
the plank, the body
to which wings attach
a breeze over, passed through
and we held that, as Life
a rosehip
bubbling water
and called it This
the It
the walk, paused
along the body, plank
latched to miracles
honeycomb
by which we'd fly
with our hands
You wrote
and I sang, steamed
with feet that grew
in distance from the ground
red as eyes closed,
Close to the light.
