Widower

now all my eves
are hallowed eves

and my heart hurts
inside my ears

night by night
i go as a ghost

from our bedroom
to the living

room wrapped in you
that is, cloaked in

one of your new
cadmium white

lightning loomed
pure cotton sheets

and fall asleep
on the old couch

my “you, too” trapped
in my blue mouth

Diplomacy: Wire Story

LEAVES NOTE FOR WIFE
TO MEET FOR TEA
GIVES GLOBE A WHIRL
QUITTING THE EMBASSY

DIPLOMAT STROLLS BAZAAR
AND WITH MUCH APLOMB
DEFLECTS HOMEMADE BOMB
FROM THE LONG DARK CAR

MIKES LIKE BOUQUETS
THRUST ABOUT THE WIDOW’S MOUTH
VEIL TIGHT AS TOURNIQUET
NOTHING BLEATS OUT