poor white out walking
too much beer and crystal
do cellphones flash like handguns
in the afternoon sun?
five bullets in his neck
grand jury understood
the deputy's decision
knew what the DA wanted
or didn't
the promotion to detective
came sooner
than might have been expected

the world has been held back
to see the shadows cast
where we might find something
unexpected and yet
useful a dropped gas cap
the thin plank from a fence
a couple of red rocks
to accent the flowers
planted by a lost friend

if freedom could be earned
then i might see the one
who brought me here
as someone i have loved
almost well enough
to recognize
in evenings when the stars and moon
are less apparent than the rain

dark goddess lover of the night
chaotic daughter even god
has feared give me the strength tonight
where wings of uriel may love
my undeserving tongue with song
releasing some new variant
to lodge beside what's lasted long
as any earthly supplicant
two boys beneath your slanted arms
bring mischief from the crescent moon
the dreamer and the end of dreams
let play long light in fecund june
late dark content to wait its turn
while chiseling upon the stone

some hidden cause breaks
fever soaking early afternoons
of still cold sun
days in the lovers' month

where seeing isn't quite
come past believing
would you ever or would i
find pitch dark path
so close the smell still moves

concealing all the consequence
of singularities spaced
where too easy crossfire
has no wheels
no combination
and no pleasure that's remembered

you no longer name this world
spent casings loosely scattered
guarantee no evidence
that i was ever in your eyes
imagining the sliding time
when snow fell on the wall
the street the lovely hill

buckled concrete rooted up
by           and
      oaks           elms
impassable in a chair
despite the full battery
she turns
retraces
finds steps this time
so it's into the street
the only way
to reach the square
to protest
the marble statue
now she's passed
by the pickups
with the flags
whose drivers
on their way
to guard the monument
guessing she is not on their side
hurl epithets
call her a lover
of that which they
in their ignorance
despise

white skin of winter
on my not quite old man legs
tells me i never
understand my brother's pain