The Body

"How long did I stand in the house of this body
And stare at the road?"
                        Mirabai

The body,

a machine
of impulses
and ticks,

fails now and
then.

It fails.

I ask if I
am trapped
of the air

and the air
does not answer.

I ask
of my wife
of my children

if I am trapped.
They wrap

me in the love
of their arms
and legs.

They love
with their arms
and legs.

The body
once engaged
remains engaged.
I will

trust the
machine. I will learn

to love.
To wait for the

answer
of no answer.
I will

live in my body
and know

its sense, and its silence,
at last.

Fifth-Watch Bells

No longer beautiful
I eschew beauty.
No longer patient
I eschew patience.
Once, when I was young
and golden,
women came to me in
pairs, promising
things they would
later deliver.
This I called love.
Once, when I was young
and golden,
I examined my heart
and found it
to be full of joy.
This surprised me,
even then.
No longer the late night
poet, I eschew
the changing of days.
How I went before is not
how I now go.

Caruncle

            "It all goes slo-mo…"

                        Kate Bush

The grass growing as you sleep.
The damp spot on the porch.
The tree branches, sky-hung,
after the storm years ago.
The sinkhole, the broken squirrels.
The path the dog took.
The way it all gets to you on a
morning in May.
The way your wife keeps talking
about her life, the
reasons you no longer listen. The
way it builds in you like corruption.