Bluefire Eyes
Her bluefire eyes
Feel so far away, tunneling
Down to places we can’t follow.
I can no longer tell if
The burn is white-hot, silky
As a wedding dress, gutsy,
Or what the walls are made out of
Or if the horizon wasn’t what
I just passed an hour ago.
Cityscape with Roses
You stopped
And stooped
To smell the chalk-white roses
In the planter. You stopped
And when you smelled them,
Their powdery pungent porcelain
Tears went up
You nose and choked rings
Around your throat.
You stopped and stooped,
Went on coughing down the street,
Choking on your
Own faults.
The Ghost Outside the Window
There is a ghost in the gutter —
Paces seven steps
Past the window — stands
Outside doing — nothing —
Fogs up the mirrors of
My eyes — sticks up the
Sides of the shower curtain,
Quivering wet —
It comes — When it comes —
It is more Afraid — of Me
Than I — of it.