AMY BETH GOLDEN

It is not that ruminating child
you purport to occupy
the entices the abject
carnivals of lethargy
seething like wayfarers
in my ocean spine

Your furnace stipulates
coarse packets of winter brine
A message follows:

Gazing your heart
returns and is burgeoned
with tallow  .   A window reclines
content with silver
Talismans of pine
        endeavor to harness your mirror

They cannot

I am ocean-eyed and river
carried                             You are
raven haired festooned
with miracles
Talons emerge from the sky.

NIGHT BEHIND THE REVEREND'S DESK

For you she is many  .  is extaordinary
commandeering beauty
with every glance

The leaf like presence
                      of your vigilante

obvious in abattoirs
accorded a jubilant day

For you she is woven
and lays on the dais in wait.

.

Adramelech shouted  .  the
only voice operative
         'the house is in flames
          secure the wanton'

And you fold it then
in the whiskey of your body
          in your ambient skin

waking in the ancient morning
looking for him  .  his name

The hair and the mirror
the chill of the floor
when she came.
 

A HAT FOR DASHIELL

The wings of the servants
and forest hats.

Oh  romantic perigee how am I
to salvage even your circus tent

The clowns have escaped with the best
of your rigging
                                and the geek
has turned
his eyes on the Great Zildaff

Pony me to Rome or south
St. Louis

Even the bride who gave me children
is grafting hats
onto the rubes
                                  faster than

I can sling them
onto the rack.

POEM WITH SNOW AND SATIN

The snow descends the spiral
tendrils of the pine
easing toward the frozen earth
like a meek avalanche

And there  .  you discern through the glass
a woman
whose blouse (she wears a greatcoat)
You know is satin or blue sky silk
by the way she purses

her lips to the packets of winter dust
striking her face        her eyes
                                    striking her face

She furrows on the burdened concrete
lines of departure
follow her
           gaze to her spine
strung like a bow  .  taut with wire. 

Spring Fashion

Have you seen her costume
(Mucho chic)

A chiffon number
with wrought iron sequins
buttressed by giant penises

It isn't designed for
         walking

In fact no motion at all
is feasible

She just stands there in this
creation, writhing her fingers
looking incredible.

SECOND MAGNITUDE

With her scissoring fiercely through the
star charts, I half expected the eastern
hemisphere to erupt in comets of protest.
On the other half, I expect my best straight
razor, with the tortoise shell casing and
the insignia of the wolf cult, to be dull
in the morning and mean and reticent for
my silence.
She has successfully regrouped the stars
of Orion into a semblance of our landlord.
By the first of the month, she says, he
will fold over the horizon and begrudge
the tenants of Antwerp.

CHIMES

It is a calm yellow sun
that cajoles the air

                     to vanish

You inhale fibers
of the dog

and a wiser night has fallen
from the circus

sky          onto the dust
                of a thousand saws.

It is a woman who wakes you
all your life.