April 11

Tokyo Storm Warning

April: the sky darkens like a cut
apple. A sticky honeysuckle smell
collects in trash can lids. A single jet
swims past, leaving a smear, a vapor trail
behind it, like a foot sliced on an oyster.
Your mind's as subtle as a cannonball:
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Bind up the wound with masking tape. Take care
it doesn't leave a scar or start to fester.
Imagine, if it makes things easier,
her kisses issuing from the mouth of a goat,
bearded, full of roses and barbed wire.
The thunder's pace is quickening. It gives
the impression of a distant dance of hooves.