Engaging
Venus
Oboes
quail-cry. The music leans into a risen ether.
Low
notes rupture, a softness
of
flesh on razor wire. Are you listening?
The
shape of your pulse is made and handled.
It
supports the roof. The lawnmower chugs with it.
The
universe spills across the table.
I
suggest blue to match your eyes, blue paler
than
the late sky’s crust of blue, a lateness of blue
engaging
Venus: a held breath and then the night.
Money
counted into stacks, wobbly coin chimneys
anticipate
the city where I died. I lose count
of
the cities, conquer karma, goldfish suns.
We
ride up-country. The map is in my head.
The
snow swirls. Which way now? Each shadow
longs
for a name, hangs hawkish in the wind.
The
mind is changed, courted. I confess, the stars
in
my care have disappeared; nothing else of interest.
Pinwheel
galaxies trail ghostly light, bright bangles snuffed.
Fields
burn, smoking stubble stinking as it blackens.
Field-hands
man the firebreaks. One man, asleep,
sinks
in an ocean, hears no blazing birds.
Suitcase
on the landing, the house folded with the shirts,
life
is full of such extravagance. A house not there
and
still these rarefied excursions: whatever next?
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