The Chic and the Dead
A POEM
Rocks that block the mouths of tombs
Give sermons of great gravity
On the benefits of dumping wombs
To save the giants of the sea.
Procrustes breaks the limbs of Christ
To fit Him in His resting place;
“Fins and tails are underpriced
Big bellies will not save our race.
There is no room on earth for us
Who spoil it for those coming after,
Send babies off without a fuss.”
(To the sound of God’s and whales’ deep laughter.)
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Thaws
Around our March balcony tonight
Fog closes its slight hand — illusive blue —
Pain of Late Conversion
Have mercy, Lord, and by your blood
wash from my brain
the sly recurring pain
…