Heather Brinkman
Four Poems


v   v   v

Santo and Johnny
& all the boys

And
Ann

the pipe bottled penny cash
of addidago saltarello

and where our working hearts
have shamed us

they too
shall parturition,

and all things forgotten
will again affray



e  e  e

bel canto: onyx marcato
or all of universe for you

my whorehouse your heart
a burning violet



r  r  r

the cordon has won
its preventions of our
worn love, so may the ruga
iris saccharify and dissolve
to the tripartite of yarrow

the mast of men a cozenage
here, there Ovolo

now go and let me be that
on my own



m  m  m

Your Polish tits are far too much
for men and far too much for me
to rest within


I know the emasculate
sun will never again
rise on us with certitude,


“the glorious sunrise”
  will never come

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