Saturday, December 1, 2012

Congressional Freshman




your mother reminds me of you
up a ladder and each of her arms
with its own Martin house
the wind vain appealing
the thunder unmarked
her absent eyebrows
permanently raised
braille for those searching
for a self no doors no windows
just holes she uses a hook
to close them down for winter
some other bird type
will occlude
ladders and legs
store unwieldy can't say we
said much to each other
out in the rolling oceans
of indefinite lawns
where roses ink as coral
all the metallic hoverings
bee dragon maple winged
a deliverance into days
some scarf that treasured
her attentions
the meander boll would cotton
its own organized clutter
and rumage til she held up
two flashlights like binoculars