art by Luis Ricardo Falero |
a pomegranate
lottery
it was
her life for sticks and stone shit
she dug a hole and fit herself in it
she saw by fingers and hands
carving sand best bent and crawling
thirsty for next morning’s condensation
the little dome cathedral meniscuses
of rain that never wanted to be
in the clouds
Autumn is when
she cashed out
her house plants
went to die
cornering the dark
she was bleeding out
with her pets
quietly turning wheels
she breathed slowly
she savored, watched,
painted and peeled
each self bone raw
she knew
this dance and
ache by tide
a gallery season
she let it ride
her loss of sugar
a concubine price
and bite to the court
feast and dance
of this year’s
Mephistopheles again
EJR ©