An illustration (for an E2 valentine*)
- The temblors’ shaking stopped, a gas leak caught
With peanut butter, and let go outside.
- Reconstituted lightning -- tried on, bought,
And worn home from the storm -- worn out, it died.
- Rapture of the deepest dive a clarinet
Can sound: An E note, packed in urchin roe.
- Cigar box nest of round things; delicate,
Long, thin things... Could it be a radio?
- Your ironing board -- left down, unfolded from
The wall -- its cover scorched with Moorish gates
Through which your dream-green moonlight will not come
Before your invitation’s pressed. It waits --
And while it does, let each of these, as markers, stand
For all your breathless qualms cupped in my distant hand.
*of who, vicariously, I’ve grown fond;
so strong when she says, “No deals, Mr. Bond.”