I am a plum—
      io sono la tua prugna
and I fit in your palm,
in its tender arch
      upturned, stately
and I curl in its pits
of lines that quake
with the warmth of my weight.

My flesh grazed by your teeth,
      a hymn that carries
across the gleaming sea
and intertwines with the tempest
that soaked your black curls
but not your mouth—
      your mouth dripping
with my plum juice.

have i run out of words?
because

i

cant
..seem

t o



          fi n d


                                  t
                           h
                                  
                                                    e

                      m

I really think
I’m always going to love you
I don’t know
What’s going to come of that
And I am terrified

Take me back to that
tower in the woods.

Threading our way around the trees,
we'll see their canopies from the sky
as the rain falls around us.

And even when lightning lines the clouds
with silver, and the thunder rumbles
with the beating of our hearts,
we can be silent, and smile.

I lived poor and died poor.
no obituary written
nowhere a black flag fluttered
no one grieved
no bells tolled
no prayers recited,
to still my departed soul!

My body was wheeled in a hearse
with a few following
with hesitant steps
more as a custom than a gesture true
the open gates of the walled cemetery
allowed a glimpse of the newly dug grave
in a remote corner it stood
close to an overgrown hedge
among many a mound
that bore no name on it

Oh, the indigent and the lonely
are destined to huddle together
in death under the sod
with their identities merged
into a single clan!

My body when swiftly lowered to the pit
and as everyone left to join the rage of life,
I pondered, how on this Earth
the distinctions of rank
extend down unto dust
and follow one like a faithful mongrel