These Hazy Days

Split in Half

"Don't be afraid"

Breath blooms against glass

Trapped in and humid

Orchids withdraw

Into themselves

Sun outside, hot

Dry mouth forced on mine

My body split in half

Crow flaps, angered calls,

Drops Oyster from high skies

Dives down; fever-eyes shine

At the sight of barnacles broken

Clamped lips wrenched apart

And Oyster gathers sand

In strange places.

Crow pecks exposed flesh

Hot sun goes down

Police lights

Move beautifully

Across foggy glass

I don't want the sun

To rise again next morning

Nor do I wish this blackness to linger;

This dark, this cold, these knocking knees

Which make the flowers curl into their casings

Shaking — shrunk —

They ask; I say I'm not afraid

Pretty police lights move away

Like absentminded dogs, intent

On the trail of fire-smoke, loud and acrid.

Are their noses trained for anything more?

The geraniums: indifferent, or asleep

They do not hum maternal songs

Or stroke my brow softly

In the dark.

The sisterly iris

Has turned her face to the wall

And will not hear my voice.

Somewhere, undetected,

An angry crow abandons the remnants

Of a shattered oyster, split in half.