Pieta
1.
Paper Michaelangelos stuffed in Tiresias'
bra.
Blind Madame smooths the ruffled cards:
'Your sheet is the joker, the pillow, the deuce.
I do not see
the hangman in water.'
2.
The seabed burnished like a dugong's throne.
Sunlight corsets the tide's garters,
and you dance
with the mermaids who say, 'Yes,
yes, undo my dress' –
And you will see
something more than the shadow
of a shark fin at dusk
or the song of the Phonecian at dawn.
I will show you beer
and a handful of bust.
________________________________________________________
Fantasy in G Minor 1
Don't
you wish sometimes you'd outgrow
your misery? That'd be good –
to wake after rain in a garden
where pears bruise completely, conceding shape to the
long fall. To be so far gone from the story of your life
that seeing becomes just another way of failing. Yet to
fail would at least be something: a shadow bare of form,
the tempo no clock keeps.
____________________________________________________
Fantasy
in G Minor 2
Poseidon
weeps in the compost.
No-one will fuck him. His trident blunts in the rotting
sun. His pearl belt falls undone. No-one can stop him.
