|A WARS GOING ON
Silently, a battle-like scurrying, Fighting that swaggart, braggadocio mofo
dishes misery. Saint Grit, we have come to illumine it: this unlit room
If Sweet Pea ignores me, I must let her be
Between the dumb-waiter & the dumbfounded children watching Papa leave home, Army hat packed, wedding ring still on hand
Mercury turns retrograde.
The day I first believed
In another life of free-floating anxiety crossing the Rubicon
I was a hospital porter throwing out last years flowers:
I saw hospital-staff thorns
Wetlands mirroring surgeries, white foxes a capture, an urgency
I scored musical notes scrolling down.
Great houses in the background: rippling satin
smudged glass windows banked
a soft fire s
grandmother setting out silver before mute grandfather
two strokes having taken silver speech away from
an immigrant from Romania, a research chemist distilling eternity-mercury, silk & thin.
LABOR DAY WEEKEND
I thirst & hunger to be part of the painting: Sweet peas Scottish family coming
Me the Jew exiled. She is camera-deprived:
My girl Sun thin as bicycle spokes, blue spider web ink lines on white linen
where I jotted poems as a kid sullying aunties bed linen in a dollhouse room
wallpapered dormer ceiling
clear glass beads
the Book of Knowledge
everything a child didnt want to know:
Make shift olive leather in my own home was better than her
our family was ruined like a ship in a bottle.
Among the loved lost I would not come last.
The labor is in the leaning toward
the Saint Dirt Elementary school choir
air-brusht fire copper & mineral fire
dirt yard blowing like a bugle thru the hard yard.