SSS

 To you:

whose brow is made of metal

Whose curvilinear form and

Whose warm weight and 

Whose full-throated 

Self is so self possessed:

Sorry So Sloppy

—————

Dozens of them set out 

on the slope of the hospital grounds 

Searching in teams 

You, Christ on a cross

I hold your hand, unsure

OK yeah yes easy-peasy

—————-

Friendless in the air conditioned dark

Kicking at a moonless sky

Possessed of an idea

That a call or a coo 

Will bring us to you

But we never do arrive

And so you writhe upward

Toward the static

And quivering constellations 

And it never ends

—————-

In years past I was of the night 

Less lately

But still, time to time

Look up at the moon 

And sway sickly as the knees tickle

And wake with a prayer 

For clean weather