Shah Jahan |
"After a period of time they'll dry out, and then the phosphorous will contact the air and start burning again," said Detective Howard Greer of the Oregon State Police. "If people are near these things when they start burning again, you can get some very, very serious burns."
“That's why you're safe from me,” you said.
As if any of us could ever be safe from
each other:
we are like those tubes of white
phosphorus
that wash up on the beach, submarine
markers:
it's all a matter of when we touch the
air.
May this hand be full of light
may this heart be tipped in the morning
sun
may the bowl of my skull be scraped
and clean
and microwave-safe:
a vessel for
morning oatmeal
for coffee
for slanted light
for two hunched crows on a maple limb,
waiting for kibbles and a kind word.
Kartika and kapala
(skin flail and skull cup)
in the bathroom cabinet with the
toothbrush
and the razor: maybe the jumbling
becomes richer with age.
6 comments:
I'm a firm believer that the poetry 'becomes richer with age'. A case in point here!
What a wonderful combination of things here, gorgeous and frightening.
Ah, and my code word was "suckleg."
Hmm. Surely that went with my last poem? I need to have a word with the Captcha people.
Nothing is safe.
Beautiful, Dale.
"skin flail and skull cup" Great sound.
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