fault-line tattoo

GLASS TEAR

Step by shaky step, lame Hobo

spirals the lead-grey hump,

an awkward salience – dump

or agate-hold?  He doesn’t know.

Like Doc Woodpecker, peppering

the old birchbark, testing

the ribs for air – a ring

of hollow knock-knock, worm-hurling.

The sap running... a red thread

of civet.  Venison

oozing from the cauldron.

There’s no going back to the dead.

In the splendor of the west window

a minute glass tear

bisects its mirror –

eggshell splinter twixt Église & you.

My almond diamond, mutters Hobo.

Ring around the rosy,

let’s all go see

Thunderbird (hear the wind blow).

Notes of a flute, along the river.

Ocarina in the woods.

Hums through stray moods

of autumn... Black Elk (Indian giver).

You trace the zigzag coral coil –

a Queequeg scar, knifed

into casket-crown.  Life-

line for Jonah.  Rachel’s whorl-oueil.

1.19.17