A Placenta of Love
A placenta of love: letters,
Calculations of time, just talk:
I forgot the name of the holiday,
It was warm and good
And I saw you flying without a miracle,
Without an airplane.
Do not ask us
To live a second time.
Flowers in a Room
Flowers in a room are prettier than the weed’s lust outside.
And though they are cut off from the earth
And without hope,
Their self-deluding desire adorns the room
So you, sitting in my room, are beautiful
with love for someone else.
How can I help you.
The happy wear a thin necklace with black hair
And on their forehead the sign of joy.
And a Greek man looks with blue eyes
Into the dark thicket and is dreamed
By a distant woman, unknowingly.
I cannot help you
As I cannot help myself.
I too make square pictures
Out of round love
That knew no boundaries.
Mortification of the Soul
Yom Kippur on the Sabbath:
instead of shofar blows,
a gray tomcat shoves his horn
into a black tabby;
her complaint goes up to heaven–
the tremulous wails of chastised infants;
his teeth fasten until she bleeds,
the army of his sperm
roars in her womb.
And the parched neighbor
who no longer remembers
when old age overtook her
stands in the window, shrieking:
Enough! Enough! Enough!
The mouth that enthralled
is the mouth that appalls.
The mouth that lulled to sleep
is the mouth that awakens,
Your dream, like cobwebs,
sticks to my hands.
The mouth that sucked
the breath of your sleep
like a rescued man on the beach,
clenches like a fist.
The mouth that aroused
is the mouth that numbs,
saying: With your permission,
these tears tenderize your flesh,
to set the table for the feast of the dead.
The mouth that bound is the mouth that releases,
saying: from now on you’re permitted
to one and all.
Photo by Anna Sastre on Unsplash