The power vacuum is a shell game


There’s a power vacuum now
below the Black Sea.
Miriam, a refugee
gives birth at stern of carrack (dhou)

& when Rachel picks up Ishmael
off the concrete salt
an angry orphan (Baltic
pattern?) flings his own skull

at sociable Medea (Simmering
Mother-of-Pearl Revolver
Hid Woeful Moonstar).
& this is just the Evening

Mirror (ravening Wolf-
Mammon).  Somewhere near
(gray whisperdame’s here,
now) Jonah will surf from Gulf –

stubborn mule of humility,
his meek almond eye
only echoes her sigh
(Mary’s blues... welling salty

humanity).  This continuum
of mother-of-pearl, on
the inner lining (onion-
dome anchoring heavy ouragan-

glissando) shapes a simple
turtleshell rainbow –
twilight will bestow
pink robin’s-egg Love-temple.


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