Albatross

Mourning. Choked and cloakedas a hung monk. Sky-buried. Wings a heart-splayedrain of answered prayers,folklored antlers, sick-green, rare as the small alabaster spineof a four-foot dragoncoiled under glassin a cloud of formaldehyde. originally published in Albatross #27

Who will remember your name?These breeze-combedtrees with theirthousand hushes. Under the thunderon the tall white porch,a mislaid teacup catches rain. Name me one thing morebeautiful than a livingbeing’s laughter. originally published in Albatross #27

I paid attention, recordedeverything: redbig moonrise, quick over cloudbank.The sourmilk scent: mums wilton my altar, flesh ashing,cymbals. All of us clanging: “Wrong,wrong, wrong.” The fruitoffering baked into an ache. A beautiful brighthouse of slightblue to walk through,its name “Tomorrowand the BigSky Who opensUp With It.” Sliver of lapis in my changepocket.My thumbnail hill-lost,wandering your clavicle.…