like me

oh that breeze
snirking in and swuttering out
little sweet thing
not quite a thing like me

for sure there was a bit of magic
thwicked into a sunflower
and left on my porch
which, recently, has changed smell

oh that shiver
much crusticated and mustified
twitching my nightgown
as if i didn't know my aloneness

i come to think it thirsts, much like i do
against this wretchfull city
toward fragentious lands
and lost sweet lambous things

inked out

the train comes in
a great flutter of birds from an old hollow tree
and I know how it will depart-- a herd of cattle,
leaving the ground pawed and the little mice frightened

i sit on a plastic chair, my bare toes wiggling in impatience
as i watch the black cloaked lady occupy the concrete yard
of the waiting place, every inch of her inked out
every inch of her, my opposite

the train comes in
a bold chorus of yammering dogs in the desert
and I know how it will depart-- a polyester veil
leaving the men hungry and myself, faceless

box

When there was, through no fault of the world, a little sliver of peace
That crept out
And escaped
The people in the forest stopped their drumming and their blanching
And listened

And when there was, on quite a fine day, a tiny crest of stillness
That caught on
And grew fat
The girls in the school shushed their giggles and their lessons
And heard

And after the bitter night came, a pinch of snuffed calm snuck in
sat down
and sprouted roots
We all grew a bit somber to think of such calm, so close
We took heed

And after all those insignificant instances
Of sacred smothered silence
I curled into an old brown box
And frantically wished for your noise.