Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Day 7 & 8 --- struggling.

vii.  Stop the flowers

Gretchen, her soft blouse open, rubs pussy willows
against her cheek.  Frank, watching from the garden fence
wants to touch her.  

He plucks a yellow rose from the twisted vine.  A dot 
of blood blooms on his finger.  

A small interlude the devil will perhaps miss

Let this moment last a while -- 
the butterfly alight on the milkweed
a blue-black raven stitching doubt to the sky

Hazel Dickens singing about West Virginia 
the same melancholy as knowing about the execution
of Camila O'Gorman, her baby baptized in bullets.

It is endless -- the beauty of sadness;
the dusty Sphinx losing its face, wild sweet violets 
young girls in white Easter dresses praying to Jesus. 

1 comment:

cafe selavy said...

it's endless, the sadness of beauty. . . .