Poetry

The Death of Things

The long green arms flex 

pulling the monarch close, 

subduing its flutter

between prayerful hands.

I’m watching as the monarch watches

 the mantis eat her eye,

remove her face.

 Rendered motionless,

 I like the way this works

 on me, thrumming my fibers

as I ingest the horror─

the monarch half inside the mantis 

or is it the other way around?

Is it both?

To eat a live thing,

swallow its shudder

closes the gap between.

Would we surrender

to the fangs 

of some alien thing

bent over our fear,

taking its thirst from us,

reeking the relief of its hunger?

No evil intent here,

just the sweet and awful chant

as we merge

like the passionate murmur of lovers.                                                                                                            

Published Cedar Hill Review – 1998

 Besieged

This, then, is what I want,

to be right at the center

of the siege, 

unprotected

as a jetty 

when the sea arches its back

to strike          

intentionally.

Or sitting still with you

near as our origin, 

the barest lamp

lighting us,

our many faces                                                                                   

pooling

so that we can’t find ourselves

anywhere.      

Published Santa Clara Review – 1991