Machine gun anthems
fire furious, redeemed
in splintered chasm;
concrete shakes this circling dance
peeled in pounding strain.
Unhealed women bow bleak sorrow,
on my blackened linen.”
Yellow fades my photographs
as masquerade moon
Poison’s not passion nor arsenic’s allocate;
angry as a slivered strand of silk,
the wind strikes vision and rests tonight.