Variations within
established parameters
mark the cloud
of possible outcomes.
Like pages or teeth,
at last to go on
occupying space as names
are recycled—
death at last eats
the advertisements,
as such is
my hero. You of no
commercial value,
unweave the grid
like a head of hair,
at the very last
you will be my friend.
The flags you tear
for shrouds, when erasure
is the only
recourse to a murmuring
text like an ornery
mountain; no less
than we deserve.
A sign post
the grave of an empire,
the shrill horns
like cicadas
melting into the heat.
An absolute love
purer than religion;
even in the supermarket,
the department store,
the shopping mall,
there is only
one.
No comments:
Post a Comment