Saturday, September 17, 2011

Trinket Glare



Trinket Glare

A stranger weighs local soil in stiff hands.
A silver ring glows from tall brown weeds.
The emporium of defects never closes.

Eyelids feel the fast-rising white sun.
Who will start the breakfast fire?
A dust devil whips sunflowers off
the front of a mud-splattered house.

A girl with glazed blue skin undresses,
listens to handwritten letters on the floor:
songs of Sunday love... graveyard Sundays.

A Help Wanted sign drops from a cloud.
Half a desk chair falls from another cloud.
Blight-tomatoes, gray summer squash,
a black tea cup: it is raining inside of time.


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