Friday, September 30, 2011

Blood-Orange Sun Dream

Impression  (1872)
Claude Monet

Blood-Orange Sun Dream

Startle: the silent distance between
love and a gold religious medallion.

Secret bleeding rocks in a lost canyon.
The reddened lips of a Sunday river.

All these years and memory runs back:
white-headed cattlemen in Hobbs
swearing they could smell lightning's
darting odor days ahead of a storm.

Rolling lawn and flowered terraces...
wind splitting around a Villa Montalvo statue of Venus.

Bumpy-faced doormen bowing, in the city of fog,
to a frail, goiterous, once-radiant glitter rock girl.

Red roses gone to brown, baby trying different
shades of white lace over mulberry-stained breasts.

All these years and memory runs back:
a lanky deputy sheriff in the Nebraska Sandhills
roping empty plastic garbage cans to the applause
of children in front of a cracked-windows sale barn.

Whitewashed limestone fence posts in Kansas,
a spilled bucket of oats, glassy-eyed hope....

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