of
lightning streaks against the divide.

Perhaps lavender is a language here, the juxtaposition of mind
with energy coming to a halt from a brisk canter, then proceeding
to nibble a currant from my hand.

THE NECKLACE GARDEN

For my part, I spied red berries
on a currant bush
lush in August;
the canopy of leaves
a nesting place for hornets
clocking one hundred
in & out of their ice-castle hive.
Birds had fled in horror,
there was a pallor
around the sun
and nearby a Hubbard squash
grew like Topsy
already several baskets in size.

I threatened suicide
in this herbivorous garden
amid wild canaries and butternuts;
my jangled nerves a lobster colour
only calmed by more grievously
afflicted tobacco hornworms,
their skins pierced by the radar alum
of wasps.

Transformed into insect angels
strumming away the afterlife,
they arrived as ghosts to comfort me.

Fresh, spring potatoes grew like serendipity
under a pleasant summer sky.
The smell of good earth
revived above
the saltpetre muddle
of the humanoid puzzle.

Later, the night became a lavender cloak,
her folds sweet orifices
of a pleasure bound woman.

PILLAGE

It's chess of sorts but
reeks of you--
the hand carved emerald rook, for one,
and so many Black & White squares
that tiptoe like many a patio stone
between our warring minds.

I think of rollaway mats
lepers use to beg on,
habitually to die on
or marked cards that
outside castle walls
dicers' oaths
must originate from.

I am having trouble
keeping the pieces straight.

I mean, you're White
& concluded the beginning of the end
with first move; still, I'm prepared
for nothing short of winning.

Should we discuss this
growing stalemate near
the Bishop's mitre
and exploding gun
or against hungry faces of expendable pawns
raging, as they say, across Seas of Galilee
on that first night of Storms?

And, when pressed during attack,
is it proper logistics
to prepare the drawbridge,
fondle another dart
for a King's crossbow,
then advance at parapets
with scalding liquid,
the oily spillage
of our tongues?

DESIRE

Sleep is a striking woman
accosted by various men
while in a dance;
the warring desires thus
present themselves as on
a battlefield--
hunger comes arrayed with
red plumes to befit