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from the January 2006 issue


Dilapidated wall
I asked myself
Today why she
Didn't hang herself

Lea, the blonde Lea
At night with a rope
She'd have dangled
Like a ripe pear

And the street dogs
Would have barked
People would have gathered
To see her

And they'd have shouted
"Watch that she doesn't fall"
I'd have
Locked the gate

I'd have mounted a ladder
And would've taken her down
Like a ripe pear
Like a dead girl
And would have laid her to rest
In a beautiful bed.

* * *

I tell the garden
The story of your fate
And dogs bark at me
And neighbors laugh at me.

It's cold
It's snowing outside
The wind howls
Like a chased wolf.

Bronze bells
Target old pains
The years unravel
In eyelids of winter

Lea, you blonde Lea
What a pity you don't see
The sea coiled up in
Gray mist

What a pity you don't hear
The lumber-saws of light
In the cradle of the faraway sea
The sound of wood from broken boats

What a pity you don't feel
How the trees bow to kiss you
And how the lips of lost waves gather
To know your face

Something fell
A wept-over star fell
Folks - pray
For her



Read more from the January 2006 issue
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