the thief has made me a gift of his night’ s booty
somewhere, a daughter discovers her mother’ s coral
brooch missing, somewhere, a man recoils at the absence
of his gambling stash. somewhere, a miser rifles
over a vanished ransom in newly minted silver
all this to buy a hotbed of memories
to feed the children fresh-killed lies
to open all the locks on love
forever is a moment we hold in our stomachs
This year the leaves turn red green black
freedom colors each leaf
each stitch of grass. I am amazed
at my sweet harvest. The prison door has opened
and a nation’ s heart is released. I am full
having spent my greediness in a ritual of joy.
and then there are the one-hit zombies
cursed to an eternity of Monday nights
who runs our music does not make it
controls manufacture and marketing of rhythm
schemes on and fixes the charts. it’ s polyphonic
from the dark of the chitlin to solid gold dawn
doublecrossed over
a love come down
after the plunge
sloshing around in limbo
that too sweet gospel splash
