poetry

To the Mangled

To the Mangled

now we bow to the mangled
three-legged dogs
soldiers covered in scars
deckhands maimed by sharks
to those whose forms changed in an instant
bikers crushed by trucks
women falling in the shower on vacation in Cancun
boys fumbling with fireworks
to the souls who stayed whole
even after bodies were broken
after the slipped table saw blade
the faltering plastic surgeon
the heavy machinery suddenly backing
and right here
on this tropical island
to a cheerful white bird
unaccountably battered by a stick
in the rough hands of a brutal stranger

Cocky’s half the bird he was
paralyzed from the hips down now
dragging himself by his beak
blind in one eye
his legs twisted
tail covered in excrement
and still when you walk past
he calls out hopefully
“Hello, Cocky!”
and if you stop
he’ll laugh until you start, too,
or cry like a baby if you walk on

looking into his good eye
you see he’ll graciously accept
a gentle ruffle of his feathers and a kind word
and if you’ve peanuts
he’ll even tip his crest to you in thanks
his unwarranted trust
pains me every time

some souls
no matter how beat down
how twisted by fate
can’t help but continue to hope
to still cling to dignity
to make us all believe goodness still exists
to trust that despite their own suffering
there must be some joy left in the world

poetry

New Ireland shell money bride price

New Ireland shell money bride price

so many ways to buy
a woman in this world
and here is just one:
gather snail shells
& slice into disks
drill a hole in each center
file each round side smooth
string on cord

the parents bring out the tape
measure labor by the millimeter;
instead of fruit-by-the-foot
it’s Sheila-by-the-shell
how long is this love worth?
how much can this woman ask?

poetry

contentment

contentment

how many days in paradise
before
a day’s worth of rain
sounds idyllic?

poetry

jungle gunner

jungle gunner

the people didn’t ask for war
but it came anyway
a sharp steel column
marching on soft green island
while hornbills and Willy wagtails
scattered squawking

war was ready to
mix cement lay guns
and wait
ready to take daughters
bayonet babies
& set things back a century

no, longer: the wounds were
deep, jagged, angry
ripe for infection for generations;
(healing’s so hard
in this tropical heat)

how did it feel
tensed in the narrow-eyed bunker
hoping/not hoping for something to happen
ignoring the soothing voice of the waves
while all day everyday they sighed
home
your home
you’re home
this is your home
how much listening would it take
to know we’re all on one ball?

poetry

flat water soothsaying

flat water soothsaying

nearly still silent
opaque navy water changes,
goes sea glass green

suddenly see-through,
shapes flicker below:
fish rock reef past portent future,
the surface flattened to
one great divining well
a wide scrying glass

but wind and wave muffle, muddy
each deep message
that may be bound to me,
formed by my mind or other

I look, though not deliberately,
satisfied with shadow and suggestion
not needing to know what’s next
not wishing to learn the worst

poetry

language loom

language loom

alone together so long
we’ve nearly forgotten
how others sound
how to weave an exchange
with another willing soul
until the tones hold more than
simple senseless waves

slowly we remember
to listen and ask until
there’s a tough cupped palm heart
sturdy enough to hold tears
threaded together
one under-over-under dip
of our verbal dance at a time