Not On My Watch!

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Not On My Watch!

The black-and-white cat
sits in the window and watches
the ginger cat who lounges on the porch
and watches the five deer
who stand in the woods at the garden’s foot
and watch the neighbor’s little dog
who watches the raccoon
who disdainfully removes the garbage can lid
and fishes out the food, scattering
paper and wrappers and cans
as four crows sit in the tree and watch
the wind as it whistles the papers
round and round in a windmill
that wraps itself round the feet
of another neighbor who is watching
the raccoon with open-eyes
as a seagull flies above him
and bombs him from above,
damn seagulls, and the bird poop
falls right on my neighbor’s watch face
and he cries out
“Oh no, not on my watch!”

Full Moon Fading

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Full Moon Fading

Full Moon fading outside my window
still draws up water, attracts high tides,
drags the wolves by their drawstrings
struggling, bedraggled, out of my chest.
Soon to be invisible, they clutch and claw
as they climb the moon path’s golden light.

The piper has paid his rent and packed
up his pipes, leaving me at last alone.
A silence rules my lungs. Five deer stand
silent in the woods beneath my window
and I watch them as they watch the piper go.

My body’s house lies drained and empty.
The Fading Moon flushed out my body,
leaving it high and dry like a great white whale
abandoned, breathless, on a summer shore.

It’s all over now, the cough, the splutter,
the sharp reality, the aches and pains
that told me I was alive. I miss my music.
I miss the swish and roar of my incoming,
outgoing breath. I miss those Full Moon
fingers tinkling the tides of my inner being,
making me strive to keep myself alive.

Pibroch

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Pibroch

This morning, the bailiff, Mr. Kovdrop,
evicted the two gnomes from my lungs.

Landlord Bodie placed an ad on Kiji
then rented the free space in the left lung
to a tiny piper who took up residence by my heart.
This piper piped a pibroch, sad to play,
on his worn and wheezy bagpipes.

A pack of miniature wolves infiltrated
the midnight forest flourishing in my other lung.
When the pibroch played, they pointed their noses
at that spot in my throat where the full moon
would have been, if she could have broken in.
They mingled their howls with the bagpipes caterwaul
and I lay awake all night with my heart beating
arrhythmic suspicions on its blood red drum.

The drum played, the pibroch wailed, the wolves howled
and my body lay scarred by an absence of moon and stars.

White Wolf

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White Wolf

The white wolf of winter
exits her den-warmth and
shakes cold from her coat. Snow
flies, whitening the world.

She points her nose skywards,
clears her throat until
cold winds howl a chorus:
crystals, crunchy crisp.

We cower behind wood
walls, peer out through steamed
up glass. The white wolf draws
near. She huffs and she puffs.

The snow drifts climb higher,
blotting out the light. Night
falls, an all-embracing
Arctic night of endless

snow snakes slithering on
ice-bound, frost glass highways,
side roads and city streets.
Outside, in the street lights’

flicker, snow flies gather.
Thicker than summer moths,
they drop to the ground, form
ever-deepening drifts.

Our dreams become nightmares:
endless, sleepless nights, filled
with the white wolf’s winter
call for even more snow.

Sun and Moon 11

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Sun and Moon 11

nochebuena[1] – a star spreading crimson fire
girasol – bright mirror to his golden face
colibri – hovering on a whirr of wings

am I less than a flower or a bird?

if my fingers could grow feathers…
if my face could sprout petals and leaves…

hollow bones whistle a sad song
the sailor lost at sea
the wanderer asleep in foreign soil

both far from home

[1] Nochebuena / Poinsettia; girasol / sunflower; colibri / humming bird.

Sun and Moon 10

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Sun and Moon 10

Sun thrusts his fierce face
through night’s dark window
his voice booms out like a golden gong

“What have you done with my child?”

curled and flaming his orange corona
head lucent with a coronet of radiance and fire
his eyes sweep night beneath day’s rug

New Moon pales and fades in a corner
Serpent escapes through a crack in the wall

 

Sun and Moon 8

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Sun and Moon 8

draped across night’s blackboard
stars and constellations all erased

my black angel bruised by the dark
the world’s feathered wonder reduced to shadow and ash

what dreams are these?

feathers against night’s window
an angel of darkness descending a steep stairway
tumbling through the night

who’s dreams are these?

 

Sun and Moon 7

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Sun and Moon 7

Old Woman weaves a crinoline from stars
she plucks roses from the void and turns them into haloes
nochebuena blossoms on the perfume of her breath

the cardinal’s song is a crimson voice hidden among leaves
mercurial in the moonlight
Old Woman coils her relentless cage

one by one the cardinal’s tunes are imprisoned
a butterfly impaled on a moonbeam
the last note of his song

 

Sun and Moon 5

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Sun and Moon 5

dusky shawl of a knitted dream
wrapped round my shoulders
I pick at knots of tangled memory

a word as sharp as a stone
cast at a friend
sea shells cutting
naked feet
at the water’s edge
sunlight
weeping blood
over mother-of-pearl

Old Woman winds
a ball of wool
she handcuffs my wrists
with softness
spun from lambs
my hair turns silver in her mirror

snakelike I slide into my dream
slipping sideways
deep dark well of night

 

 

Sun and Moon 4

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Sun and Moon 4

night without moon without stars
dark sand dropping
filling my mouth
I walk the lonely bed of a dried up river

when I stumble in my dream
my feet leave no footprints
colourless is my path
through shadow and sand

figures of darkness
conjured before me
hollow their eyes
their mouths black caverns
no flesh decks their bones

footless they sigh
a sibilant song
mindless they draw in
a net full of sorrows

silver fish darkling
losing their sparkle