Refurbished
REFURBISHED
The ladybug dies
wedged in wicker,
is spray-painted green.
Disassemble yourself.
Free trampoline.
Not one to jump
to conclusions, but if
even pipe-smoke throws
a shadow in moonlight,
nothing is ever full-
nothing, right?
The trees agree to lower
the veil and reveal the bare
strip of road which runs
behind the house.
The white roar of leaving
never leaves, and the porch
light flickers but never goes out.
In a world of partially resurrected
things, the quick and the dead
dance a tango then collapse
in a tangled heap to make
furious love till morning
shakes the can and picks
a fade-resistant shade of light.
Comments
Post a Comment