1.
certain days
to stomach the telephone
& to build
a network of black, grey, red
wires in the metal poles
that stand like roman statues
in my once crooked back.
other days
shooting at doves
fluttering like phosphorescence
between newer causes
we mistake for windmills.
2.
this morning
neglecting the prayer
neglecting the city my grandmother
once visited
and came back with golden crosses
that grew dusty in the
bottom of our collective
jewelry drawers.
3.
do you see the things that i mean
the bottoms of glasses
& the newest pair of hands
we grew
to replace
the slim broken veins of our
hunger
and
a better finger-print
to mark our new windows
i can claim myself
a
new
criminal.
© 2003 a.k.