12/05/02
In a Black Sateen
Your bird frightens me.
Such as fiction, which could
also be hidden in one’s
pocket, a weapon or
a balled up rag of snot.
Tonight it is “sparrow’s
choice”, for I am ill,
very much so, and cannot
be asked to choose between
the image and its trouble.
12/23/02
Dear Catherine the days
get so dark
in winter there is rain
& a wagon to fall from
into the pillowy arms
of a holiday. We go
from preposition to preposition,
singing & carrying boxes.
With coughing, seizure of air
in the eyes of a neighbor, our neighbors
we used to say
are everywhere
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