The Law of Falling Bodies: Poems

Downwind from the Uplift

Downwind from the Uplift End of the awkward month, mud In the birdbath, scum at the curb. A rat stands on its hind legs and bares Its great cheese-eating teeth. Welcome home, Brother: your bed’s already made and rank. Odd how the crocus gulps up, more gold In its mouth than a Mississippi bluesman. And only one mean tulip returns, like a fired worker Come back with a grudge and a shotgun. A robin struts around the front lawn, The President of Nothing Much. Neighbor, Do you feel this season right in the brisket? Between the plants and the power plant, Rush hour stalls on the asphalt, fumes and Thrombosis at the traffic lights. Willows Let down their dreadlocks; the cherries bloom With all the inducements of a Dutch whore. Bystander on the sidewalk, do you think Nothing bitter will outlast these dark days? Whatever you see in the gazing globe, or read In the sparks from a dragtail tailpipe, We’re still at the mercy of men and moon. Between the dew and the mildew, The backfall mutinies of rain begin. • • • 22 ...