RED EYES

The elocution of torn rags,
petty squabbles over land,
loaded rifles, tracks of tanks
like asteroids gone crazy
in this hemisphere
brought us to this tired fork --
where buses could be
bombs on wheels, where roads lead
straight from fence to fence.
Pitch, the darkness is pitch,
an unrelenting form of tar.
Somewhere in Afghanistan
a sea of children starves for milk,
considers rice and school books
the caviar of silk elite.
The color of communion wine
wasted in stampeding terror.

We're all still red around the rim,
remembering the choice-less ash,
scores of lambs and skeletons
that had no proper funeral.
To let the bed sore sorrow heal
presumes forgetting horror
that will never lift.
Hartshorn tears and lurid scars
spread like restless spirits now.
Somewhere near the Pentagon
another autumn rolls its mulch.
Tawny leaves are clinging
to their guarded green.
Somewhere in the foggy Bronx,
a widow and a widower
toss one toothbrush in the trash.

'Red Eyes' first appeared in 'Amarillo Bay' and 'P. W. Review'

DRIP

We're all content to pretend
a painting still sits
on an easel losing its legs.
Your ivory cheeks of porcelain,
your tongue a spoon

now tired of the crusted meal.
Different drips are all around
the coffin bed: a blood bag
slowly pumping fire,
a catheter that drains ammonia
down the gutters of a street
I've treasured all my restless life.
Doses of the vapid morphine
sanding down the bitterness.
I argue with the tumor's lump
as if I'm North and it is South
in pastures of the Civil War.

My eyes stay full of stinging hail
until I'm several steps beyond
conches of your salty ears
now pressed into a waning shore.
Nurses pass like speeding cars
as if this wreck will multiply.
Nametags blurring in a tear
I stuff into a stoic shoe.
They have read this chart before,
chosen not to memorize
sadness clawing at the screen.
You tell me time and time again:
"Get some air and try to sleep;
take a stroll and watch the stars."
I find a bench and curl up
with stacks of useless magazines --
scorning jewelry of the gods
on edges of this firm eclipse.

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