In an emergency room, I sat
Beside a man with a pencil in his eye,
He told me a joke that I don’t remember.
We’re all junkyards.
This is how we lustrate the herd,
The way everything ends.
God’s plan pokes us in the eye,
Perhaps the joke’s on us.
Waiting to be rescued by a seahorse
It will occur to you, this is what God wants …
Salt-spitting swells white-capped
Like the old woman’s head. Drowning
People singing, everyone else considering shivering.
Televisions, underwear, and wedding rings
Fill the Fresh Kills Landfill; the future,
Picks at them like a vulture. Oh, holy night,
Forgive the clumsiness of my explanation,
My tongue on the butcher block.
I’m choking on my drool.
I’ve never been prouder of myself.
