Madhuri

It’s good for things to lie down
Under snow
Under snow

We too will have to be
Tucked under
Black-armed under
Into the gap, and gap
Again

A man old enough for wisdom
Though few do know
Breathes through tooth-holes
Laughing at his losses
(Though, unlike this Earth –
Does he really know?)

I’ve heard some fruit-seeds
Won’t make trees
Unless they’ve froze down darkly
Dark black ice below the belt, the seam
Dead-like winsome seed-bits
Useless strewn –

Our veins need to circulate
Through Pluto
Black brows of ice –
Burn-frowning
Bruise-black metal
Bangs you good
No way to pad your bone –

Before they come rollercoastering
Swooping towards the too-hot sun
Eyes shut into the
White-blind daisy
Big as Job and loud as tirade gun

Just now my garden clogs
Are sticking
Fast to the deck-table
Filled heapy-dry with snow
With dunes of snow

Rock walls are nearly buried
The yard-face altered
Like fine-boned ladies swole to fat
Puffed over,
Sad like white gin woes.

I feel the earth sleep
Hard and harder
Metal-sharp the clay
Earth burning grows –

So deeply glad to drink
The long long lie-down
Locked tight
And shoulders hunching
Under snow,
Under snow.

Dec. ’06/Jan. ’07, Dancing Leaves