Hybrid Perennial

 

He brought her a manuscript made from sidewalks

and evening air.

He had eaten stars, nearly died, fathered a revolution,

all while admiring the lilies in her hair.

She complained of her situation and boredom while drinking

formaldehyde.

He developed a cough, and from the cough

came the man she now lounges beside.

Someone buried the manuscript and where it was buried

roses unfurled.

He fills his pipe with suicide, does not recognize his only child

and the woman smiles, become an ingenue, a cipher, a nattering girl.

______

Die Reise

Does it burn, dear, does it trouble you
to see these dropped stitches letting the wind in?
Walls disappear even as they shelter,
hollow as bird bones or violins
stacked each upon each like the worst regrets
of ghosts bewildered, emigrating
with dust of memory gilding frayed keepsakes
as we hold each other, advancing, disintegrating.
_________

the opening line is by Kerry O'Connor, used by permission as part of the mini-challenge at Real Toads, where she presides.

image: one of the lost suitcases of Willard Asylum