I. Fragmentation
One:
The shell cracked beneath the ball of your foot,
laced tight into high-shined patent leather,
and I could see your asymmetries
call through the sound of destruction, the shreds
suffused into beach sand and lodged in vulcanized rubber.
Two:
While lying prone on a volcanic mound,
you reached over to me, caressed my chin.
You reached across the table in a reeking coffee house
to the cup, fragile as bone,
knocking the burnt umber mug from the tabletop,
to fall into strewn remnants of porcelain and brown water.
Three:
[see now the trail, burned across
the sky hung low over desert winds,
and into my retinae,
see now the dust that coats your surfaces,
miniscule motes settle into the lines of your still-young face,
in a perfect moment, you realize the dust from a light named
desertstar.]
Four:
fingers tense, ready to cast down, i am
the first stone drawn and thrown down at the whore.
the new freed dust falls from your fingertips,
to rest upon your finely tailored dress.
II. Estrangement
One:
the radio moaned out
aching chords from
a backyard tower
set free in timeless
waves
on our journey home.
Two:
No innovation
has been the catalyst
of more connection,
or of more disconnection,
than the telephone.
Three:
the sound of oxygen hissing through a mask was the night,
in an oasis of silence,
(you remember the shore of blue velvet and crimson sadnesses),
where i was barred from higher levels,
relegated to the library
with prim leather sofas and lonely books.
this last visit frightened me.
Four:
I've retained your messages,
and the photograph of you
with a carnation between your teeth,
and the photograph of me
with the waitress.
III. Desperation
One:
Dreaming, you sing me a shadow
of your father still cast over
like the blanket of
the sparkling velvet
and rhinestone sky.
Climbing out the window was the
only way to your balcony
in the late november
clouds, weeping overhead.
Two:
gateways into your subconscious mind
were inlaid in mother of pearl
and leaned over like clenching your fists
and your teeth.
Three:
The utterance of
nighttime walks through the campus
was enough to send fear
curling down my arms
and enough to
dilate my pupils
(like my eyes were about
to give birth).
Four:
idle vapor
couldn't surmount the hills
and remained in view,
cornered by the remnants
of a hurricane.
Timothy A. Clark 1997