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M Y G O T H I C on the occasion of the second coming of George W. Bush Yesterday, from the orchard, the buzz of locusts sawing the body of a woman in half. Today, a blue yolk in my morning’s sizzle like a stuttering eye; it took me in. Meat mocks us so we feast on fleas— hot today, hotter tomorrow. I know where my father went after my mother died. Dust. And shadows churning trees into ground, leaf litter and leaf wrack. A wrist grows out of the dirt wearing a gold man’s watch. Tell me, do the vendedores still sell apple blossoms in town, each branch staved in a red vial? Buy one for me, will you? I could use a watch, now that this darkness hangs around me all day like bats in their sticky nursery roost, invert, black-veined. It’s hard to breathe— why wake? I still can’t tell where the screaming is coming from, how far or near away. Oh, if Jesus comes back, be sure to get him vaccinated!  Barresi pages:Layout 1 5/12/10 1:43 PM Page 42 ...

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