Nude Portrait
shrapnel of
rainbow, clues
of a theft,
another horizon
stashed in her
chest, above
nude suns
capsized, waning
white specks
of wish bottles
losing their
thrust, he drewher crosshatch
with fingers
veteran to scars
of a flogged arm
chair, dry ink
blot across herbreast, she
a cut applesupinated over
wrinkled oilskin& he walks
the distance ofher chiaroscuro
a single bullet
in the cylinder
of his lead gun
barren interpreter
her body was an imposition
that refused to dance –
were her ciphers spoken in a language of space, dissolution of grace on her tongue, in her,
gone; as the ghosts of our prayers rise from the cushion, another body gets broken as our throats
throw friction to flame; she was a weeping candle, to stifle, quietly as the
lovemaking between
dust, a distant collision of clouds, or the rust clawing out from a zipper
Theft
Once upon a time --measured sunlight, wounded by
a jalousie left ajar, scorches the eyelids
of a two-inch plywood, nudged
from its slumber of gyrating leaves
arthritic spine spurring a few grunts.
coppery rheum like burnt moth wings
by its amputated hip, a discomfort
in its belly from derelicts gnawing
through many years of varnish &
burgundy paint. today, loose knobs
welcome the pin jamming through.
a voltage to the brain, where a memory
a name -- Poplar, whispered to
a weak-kneed sapling, hands cupping its ass
its loam, then lowered, buried, left to pine
a century for this arborist’s glove.
a century -- of stretching one’s neck
one ring after width, into the drought
toes digging through bedrock, even
then, charred twigs, cocoons bursting
like tiny grenades amid gray sheets
drowsy eyes, ready to drown in soil
a prince appears --with a carver’s mask, painted in
sap, saw ready to placate, till death do us
part, drilled and branded, cuffs of fake
gold & a glass peep hole, revering his
rooms, without fear of slamming
shut. as the tinkering is gouged by
a resounding crunch, belly ripped to a
peasant’s crown, it could only sing.
scraped wind offering its narrations
a third person with a crowbar
turning a knob, opening a door,
she says hello -- a splinter finally reaching home.
