He was not afraid
Of the blood
Or the girl who sat in the blood
His father would find her
And say,
My son!
Or the distance away
Of the radiant image
Shiny and red and
Too bright to see
He knew in the car crash
Her neck, silver,
Would be broken.
He broke it, yet,
It wasn’t
And he cared for her.
Then she came together,
Fixed, on the occasion,
And at the precise moment
Before
Just when it snapped
A makeup artist
Hollywood gossip visited
From television and flew
To her side.
He was shapeless
Without a penis
Optically corrected.
Do you love her?
He closed her eyes
He slept with her
He danced with her
To a music of glass.
I saw her reflection
In the windshield
All she needed
To feel
Was loved.
It stopped him but
She was not a doll
Lines on her face
Told another story
He failed
To plug
Her ears to the scream
And he screamed.
He trusted her
Eyes to see him
In a tank that
Needed cleaning
On a mantle
All the axolotls died.
The doctor came
And heard the music
Wasn’t meant for this
She signed the forms.
A gramophone can’t play
Repeat and of course
The needle stuck.
One pill lay at the bottom
Of the tank
The Presidents of America
Planned to kill a blonde
To be a martyr
In a bed we warmed
For her
Her eyes were crossed already
She came repeatedly
And lay in the same blood
You found me in
It was cold and dirty in the room
We felt like making love
But for the smell of human excrement
On newspapers beside the
Curled-up edges
Of magazines
Would have
In this light
The window gave
In contact with a kiss
At the moment precise
And, on this occasion, fixed
In place, your neck
Showed silver
I recoiled
We know
What we will do.
(June, 2005)
