by the wayside

no torture clock
could stalk you even
in Allegory Alley
where sea glass burns
like Ethiopian opals
and brides decompose in glory.

poem as chameleon

you could be written
for anyone about any loss, any wrong done,
my any time chameleon song.

you could be chaste and sly
or as mournful as a November
sky, my

chameleon alibi .

calling you again by one of your foreign names

my stranger, my hungry foreigner,
I have glimpsed you once
again at death's simple door

and I palm your chin,
caress your impossible neck

wait for an unlikely grin.

in the concert hall,
you were the girl
swathed in tulle, the swan
beaking faux pearls

the lights dimmed;
wandering Jew music
mused us back

to where I call
you again and again
by all your unknown names.

gemstones for the dead—painstaken

for you and only you,
would I unravel messy lineage

sift through  boxes,
unopen yet not
forgotten. the tumblers

sparkle joyous; your name
is remembered

when

watermelon tourmaline
cascades string upon string:

Ethiopian opals, unheated,
untreated, wink like delinquent
pearls in fecund oysters

jewels as silken
as sari sashes,

spider eyelashes.

irridescent beetle backs
crunch under tooth, el dente

my dead darling.

I am the gatekeeper
of Cemetery River End

 

and I submit respect
to those who live where I must work,

an unending undertaking.

gloved

he carries you down;
you claim it is enough
meaning time
has overswept

we are collected
in bins
ungalvanized, unsanctified

is there ever a final
fairy tale? a story
so ghastly, so grim

that your small heart
flip flops, entangles
upon a branch
of someone else's making