Final eyes toward
names that only end in ‘c’, the same cat
cleaning on the sidewalk,
birds diving at the cherries,
fallen ripe, a dog towards
a corner, a talk to the hand,
a strange man fainting twice
in an open house.
The humour in death,
the dumbness of no-nos,
the money that changes hands
in theatres of death. The arena
of hopes naming the one who goes.
The rule to end pain – a sharp voice
Don’t go out after dark, there are so
many stories you can hear.
The humiliating puddle,
the surprises, a flapping promise.
Even a vaccine for morass,
a void of delicious stars.
Wheelbarrows that are old
ladies. Dark goes into the frame,
pinching the nerve around the ear
and chin. Contortions in finger
foods. Always a gardener or digger
of start-away, get-out, keep-stepping
lower or higher than any actual level.