March 27, 2009

Reconstruction #1 (Desk Dreams)

He grins
from the flames of
God's fire,

crooking a finger,
encouraging madness,

and dances with quills,
leaving sooty footprints for me
to find

in the morning.

The top of my head blows off,
pink flying out
& landing like
a thousand discarded bits of latex.

Eleven sober suits hang,
shrouded, silent,
sightless like prisoners of war,
wondering which will go first.

And the cavewoman
can't stop laughing.

Fall 2006.

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