In the Cathedral: Images & Confessions

For Monique

Moonlit shadows on a Tuesday noon
ebony spiderwebbed strands webs and weave
snow flakes dodge and dance with rising mist
a flock of bats trail albino peacock plumage while trees
lift and sight their cracked, bug-infested beaches showering
down lilac blossoms in the heart of January

Three canoes paddle down the asphalt
roadway and are hit by a tricycle running the red light
Ecstasy and Envy quarrel and make up
over something lost and profound, perhaps sanity

Crumpled bedding artfully arranged by the skilled
sleeper who has practised his/her
whole life flipping the sheets and blankets in one
fell swoop of a swallow’s cough
A black cat figure eights my legs, its glossy
coat leaving trails of hair: I think it has right worm
I pass a car
on the freeway with the sign BOOST NEEDED
in the front window

A person in black whirls
into the room and saps me of imagination
I think I shall stake him
All the while, the church bells
ring out, chiming with unholy glee that everything
is right with the world
A steer walks under the window
and moves with a soft plop, plop
the odour rising like the smell of home.
My sentiments exactly.

©1992

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