Lovers circle
Their glass Sabbath.
Hands like magnets

Find joy in funeral.
Death of ***, a
Tornado of fire,

Conflagration
Of the senses. The
Asteroid that shed

Her dress now crashes
Into the cactus, standing
Stone-faced and rooted

Deep in Earth.
Ordinary planets
Ring saint birth

On Thursday. Angels,
Paperclip assassins, rope
Bankers and truck drivers-

The ribs of Utah in the winter.
The cage that guards
A snowglobe heart. Mid-

Center shiver shaking,
Continental breaking
And aching, the shallow

Foundation of
Some growing space,
Suspended in static

Tribute to the ideal.
The cactus now this
Blank-faced man,

Sick framed mannequin
Dressed in scarlet
Remembrance, knee-deep

In strained white somber.
Sweet pair of sobbing,
Feeling faith found again

In the rain that water-
Logs the gasping pores
Of some colliding flesh,

Vibrating and ringing
Warm cold as the starlight
in your hair. You fish me

From your hairbrush
At the wake of cosmic
Death. Downstream, the

Next of kin of now fallen star
Whirl and cross, clasped in
Stellar embrace until

They splatter the gray stains
Of memories past upon
This cheaply made scene,

The spread of this mute
Moonlight; This obsidian
Distance is a well.