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Thursday, August 2, 2012

5 Operations

5  OPERATIONS 


Genome Sequence




  1. _____________________________________________________






    Cutting Him Out
    Sister enters, black chignon glimmering
    Crimson lips slashing that famous alabaster skin
    Smoky eyes black ice, and
    When she speaks she forms each word
    with the round vowels and sharp consonants
    of a singer
    and leaves spaces – as a knifer might
    pause between stabbing
    “I don’t like the way you walk”
    “I don’t like the way you talk”
    “I don’t like you”
    She exits
    silk pants sinuous swishing
    drifting her signature scent
    Nightgowned little sister freezes
    in the hallway where she’s been
    peeking
    watches the quiet room
    watches her almost uncle
    who just two days ago
    took her to fireworks at
    the beach – lying on a
    blanket with Sister
    both of them holding a hand
    under the navy exploding sky
    just two days ago
    Little sister watches him
    rise from bended
    knee – straighten his pants
    slip the ring box
    into his pocket, and leave
    right after their eyes meet
    and he
    winks with a wet eye and a crooked
    sad smile, and that way he
    has of tipping two fingers to
    her in their special salute
    Quietly with a click
    more riotous than
    a shotgun blast
    to her heart
    he closes the door
    behind him.


    ______________________________________________________
    ~
    • Do Not Look Behind The Curtain of Crystal Waters*
      (a try at a double acrostic)
      Oh if it were possible to only see
      Pull a whimsical curtain around the
      Egregious raping of dignity torn
      Round the manicured bend, there hovering
      Aquamarine reflected magic of
      Theatred sparkle: sea, sun, sand, mystic
      Incomprehensible beauty – sullied all
      Overcome by indifferent victimizers slutting
      Neatly spreading limbs of un-suspecting virgins inveigled
      or...... another try with both sides matching


      Oh if it were possible to only

      Pull a whimsical curtain over seared pupils

      Egregious raping of dignity torn with casual ease

      Round the manicured bend, hovering round

      Aquamarine reflected magic of all

      Theatred sparkle: sea, sun, sand, mystic threads

      Incomprehensible beauty – sullied all in greed insatiable

      Overcome by indifferent victimizers overlording
      Neatly spreading limbs of un-suspecting virgins inveigled near




      Oh
      Protect
      Each
      Reaching dream
      Arching
      Toward
      Inevitability
      Of
      Negation





      *returning recently from "my" beloved island - the realization that permanent relocation impossible given the heart-breaking unrelenting and I do believe unnecessary disparity in living conditions. 
  2. ____________________________________________________
    ~

    Tonsilled
    My brother danced
    into the doctor’s office
    where we had our tonsils
    out – he was four and believed
    the stories of endless ice-cream
    He sung while we waited our turn
    I was ten and slunk in the corner
    of the couch
    Two hours later –
    He screamed post-anesthesia confused
    “Let me out of jail” from his cribbed recovery
    While I threw up in a sparkling bedpan
    And classmates back at school had
    to learn as the word of the week
    to spell my the reason for my absence


    _____________________________________________________


    ~

    Exploring Mommy
    They said it was an “exploratory”
    In those days before sonograms
    They made a long cut and went
    Inside to see what Mommy had
    When I, at four, already knew
    They would find only blood and
    Good stuffing

    ___________________________________________________________


    ~
    The Road To Grandfatherhood
    It begins with a precise slice
    a rib separator
    and a humming saw
    and then
    there it is
    pulsing
    glorious
    crimson fist
    knocking insistently
    on a closed
    aortic door
    until glinting
    through
    the ess curves
    of forested
    autumnal arteries
    blossoming capillaries
    and hair pin turns
    the scalpel
    slices
    clear the choked
    vegetation and
    with silken
    thread sews
    possibility
    from certain fragility of
    a boy child’s life into
    the platinum future
    of the shimmer haired grandfather
    smiling as a yet unborn child
    on a yet unvisited sunlit beach day
    runs a tiny finger along the
    cross-hatched faded line
    from sternum to scapula
    and asks in a clear voice
    “Why do you have a zipper Papa?”

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