PRICKLY ROOFTOP
Only a light whisper of April snow
feathers the riverbank today.
The wind-serpent will flay
with rippling wings its own mud-brown
flow. The cottonwoods lean overhead
like ribs on a canoe. Gray veins
of some cast-off snakeskin.
Glass fane of Great Worm (empty, shed).
Where are the springs of yesteryear?
This April curls from cold
& back to cold. From cold
to cold – inhuman, viral (some Shakespeare
Villon). So the chill indifference
of animal aggression marks
its seal on each snowflake.
Each one unlike (unique monstrance).
So who invented this immaculate snow?
A mind of winter? Or
a dreaming Melchior – his
clouds on high, his Bethlehem below?
We sleep, we wake… like soft snowflakes.
We drift, we float… we land
& melt upon a child’s hand.
The soul is like that dark green pine, makes
rough & prickly rooftop – root foundation
for each spindrift, wayfaring
Romany light-traveling
human earth-heart time-migration
*
– so hear the art then, O spiraling
hearth! Martian enfoldment
like arms of Odin, bent
around himself – whole tree corralling!
For Snowflake is that hexèd hexagon
of heaven & earth, joined
in your heart, coined
Abraham – red copper of the gun;
that regal object-dart of adoration
– tangled boomerang, returned
upon itself – urned
at the apex of our celebration;
the bread & wine of every sacrifice
offered by universal Everyman
each time she lifts the can
for mite or gold doubloon… our price.
The light snow sweeps across Ireland
& Minneapolis-St. Paul.
A sweet lamb looks from wall
of van Eyck emerald, almost human (sand
or salt will reveal her, underneath
Mississippi varnish). Flowers
are eternal, soul-power
is substantial… MELEK shall bequeath
his welcome-gift of bread & wine
on his way to Memphis
for the garbage men. This
my body… this my blood. Lamp, shine.
4.3.20
