the wood spoon

LIG'MENT

2007-03-27T21:18:00.000+09:00

fine,
we'll just leave him right here
there's this hatch
that swings down and opens
a little tiny cubicle
perfect for a little man

peering in,
thought you could see into a room
on the other side
flourescent lights,
clinic-blue uniforms
and surgical masked anonymous people
busying themselves,
pretending they didn't notice this door opening,
this weight on the floor of the box.

It was dark, and warm, and empty.
and shiny stainless steel,
reflecting the parking lot lights
and not a sound,
not a single clue,
not that we deserved one,
from the
other side.

RONDO

2007-02-14T22:09:00.000+09:00

rounder
It's grown since a slight fuzz
a sweet lovable mold
if a young bunny
which wobbly hop uncertain
toward you,
intending away
from you.

then bristles the air
shivering.
help in the form of a loud shoe
breaking out commodious
grown
furry blanket

EXACT

2007-02-14T22:03:00.000+09:00

Incise the exact moment
that you know. sharpen to
a point. Angle and catch the sun
at its tip. Glint. burn a spot
into the cornea, an exact
replica of the moment so that
the knowing would never
fade.
never discolor, never give.

LAND WALK

2007-02-12T21:09:00.000+09:00

climbing down gripping in panic
whatever the palms met
or fingers wonder
though most are completely wrong.

patterns in the granite trick you
into believing corners that aren't there
entire walls and hallways even

the blindness of shoes
and how they stumble numbly
know more about traps than you.
trust your feet.

FRIEND JAR.

2007-01-31T00:46:00.000+09:00

I guessed it was a wooden jar
to pickle fruit.
steeped for ages in a familiar smell
that I mistook for a sweet smell
but was actually sick from mourning.
I have lost so many people
that I am no longer here.

dipping a spoon of ashes from each of them
from the first death to the
most recent,
then myself
and now they all die with me.

stroked by fingertips sticky
with self-neglect
dust clings to them tenderly
and takes nothing away from its polish.