While I stared at the moon
summer slept with death's black rooster,
her garland tethered to his three toes
with their talons sharp as testament.
While I stared at the moon
frost made love to my bones,
each on its proper shelf like dishes
in a house with snakes for silver.
While I stared at the moon
half-dead men danced with half-mad women
though neither was excited, and neither calm.
Roses twined and cut them both with promises.
While I stared at the moon
my fetch sat down on a river stone,
grinning with the morning in its pocket.
I wept and the night ate my heart like a truffle.
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Wow, the amazement of your imagery leaves me speechless. "Summer slept with death's black rooster"!! His three toes. "Grinning with the morning in his pocket." Wow.
ReplyDeleteThis is one of those poems of yours that just knocks me flat. The imagery of the first stanza is gripping. And your close is al bacio!
ReplyDelete