Laundry List

so much of the domestic round,
the crumbs burnt black, the
bloodied meats shaken over
with salt, the neverending

circle of fortune turning, the
plate spun round while icing
chocolate cake with white ribbons, the
sugar cloying with sweetness,

the too much of it, the fist of
weariness crushing the cerebellum
so as to preclude speech--what
word comes next? I do not know.

powdered bleach and ammonia, preparations
of pine and lavender, the smiling
woman sells them--does she smile
when she uses them? Oh, the dull

domestic round, broken by sleep,
doctor appointments, church services,
putting on a face to face
this world, time passes through the
fingers like sand, like
floor sweepings thrown into the
bin, all the old dreams and
desires, having been neatly labeled,
tied into parcels, they are:

soft to the touch, fragrant, the
turkish towels (a wedding gift),
ribbonsilk bordered, embroidered, too
good to use.....

the hidden luxuries of thought, the
insurrection of letters strung together

Night of the Hospital: Mount Vernon, Bronxville

the white flags fly on the green,
(visible even in this dark)
flitter in the wind by the drive
cordoned off by orange, the
blinking cruisers follow you in, follow
you out, these uneasy escorts

the night of the hospital: the
faces swim behind the bulletproof
plastic bored with holes for speech to
trickle through

the forms written out in triplicate, the
scrips to be filled, the voices
over the telephone, yes, this,
but not that, watch for the red lines.....

milky liquid, ruby liquid, squirting
syringes, so much of sickness and then
--to sleep