Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Bone-Flower Elegy (After Mary Jo Bang & Robert Hayden)

(This one's dedicated to my Aunt Riv & Uncle Josh)

As him, in the dream, as her
as art is constant yet the destructor
of my wrists, I hold this:
I can't even remove my glasses without
not seeing, and that was what
I wished tubes were all we knew
brush past beds as lolling heads
whirred and clucked and snacked on
death crackers, dry and thin.
When I think harder, will you be there,
and what was worse back then
was thinking hard that you both in separate
coffins were not. Eyes dilate faster
what with the drops is the garden
blooming yet, reach to me your hands, I will check

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