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Common Nights in the Incidence of Sympathy
Habit fixes our mind’s entirely
slippery button.
*
Wolves clawing the door.
I turn my lock on you
in a private rain.
*
How clandestinely
the laughing thrush
alights on razor wire.
*
An old woman crying
brandishes a broomstick sheepishly.
*
Summers also elapse
into anonymous stirring
a blue dress in flame.
*
Brittle howls swelling
as time wells up the lungs.
*
Name me for the profane
dusk flickering of bats.
*
The carnal mind thinks itself something
when it is something.
*
Alone in a single bed
your prayer
blooms against a long mirror.
Light shattering the walls.
Posted 05/19/10
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