Thorn teeth gnaw white bread and ketchup.
Instant audition on my haunches; her sack cheeks
turning away. Hands tacky on the cup.

Out of love we fall ten times a day,
out of the marrow, out of luck,
out back into distractions and joys we rip off from prey,

Begin to arrive
Like the toothpaste of his mother’s hug

On the back of a giant moon

I test the seasonal rains to see
if they construe how light matters.
Each evening as the clouds happen,

When I went up to Haworth there was peace
Between my teeth. An ordinary heart
Beat. My ordinary hands moved easily.

Her warmth had fallen on silence, in spite of all promises. . .
rank after rank they bled, according to their caste
each rank a source for the next of savage harvest.

Home is helped into view a cluster
of first-reel iconographic
ships, much sunnier rays—

Then I was younger and between towns
where people waited for me to sell them
either Styrofoam cups or glass figurines,

The grass is full of codes.
The signs are everywhere:
used condom, apple core, a baby’s sock.

As the black wings close in on you,
their circling shadows blighting the sand,
and your limp legs buckle, far