“Decalogue” published in Arbutus


A revolving door rotates smoke, water, fire;
the smell of gunshot, bed sweats, a secret affair.

I am a housewife and a mother of three,
a Bengal tiger has fallen in love with me.

I am discussing saffron with Elvis while dressed
in a bejeweled gown at the post office.

A wisdom tooth floats in my green tea.
Mother is a card shark and grows a white beard.

I accept an award in high heels and pink knickers,
then fall off a cliff and almost land in the breakers.

Then give birth to a red dove that speaks Japanese,
she’s the Virgin Mary who coos please please.

An invisible bullet enters my stomach.
I reach in and pull out the seed of a pomegranate.

A man enters, a frog prince, a klepto, a Jew,
fever-starved kisses like purple dew.

I’m lost in the streets of a love poem by Eliot;
the air is yellow; the streets are immediate.

My fingerless hand against a full moon
is now a bloody sheet, now a headstone.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s