Fishboat
We are discussing the spirituality of births,
& you say, a joke holds all truths, Mignonne.
I do not know. I am just draining water
From a stone, asking for my heart back,
& you speak again about what grows
The bougainvilleas. I would say you are
Made of madness, but we are both sitting,
Watching an egg crack out of the asshole
Of a bird. A man rests his head on a woman’s
Lap in a park. They sit there witnessing
The sky turn lemon inside a great silence.
Surely, that must be love. The silence?
You are doing it again, Mignonne.
Discussing what can thrive in a harsh
Condition. I am going fishing. Fishing
For loss. A joke, yet I cannot tell it. I know
Again, I have to explain how I walk a desert
In search of fish. Explaining terror, I have to
Undress the deception of sand. Of course,
Something paddles through what absorbs
A man. Something seeking an escape route.