Mother's Day Parade

You can feel them move through streets Emblazoned with sirens' primary colors, A swatch of fjord's colonial flagship hues Left to slap in the wind of reorderd forms Until sheared into confetti strips. Scripts Writ into a code are but partial prophecy. The DA wants to press on with felony Charges, I push the 19-gauge needle in & the accompanying rush pushes body Into a boundary line, the structure of Which is the last remaining imaginative Object capable of delivering feeling past The anesthesia opening in a field. The Chainlink perimeter under which a fox Slinks prefigures a new condominium. ICE & breaks in space by metal fences Shows this complicity, shrugging off The children & their parents. Dead signs. Heart's venous throb generously snuffs Out what is outside it for an interiority, A maze academics dream up in Molotov, Professional rebels rendering in febrile Flame navel via strained restraint or ex- cess. Case in point former piston pitch. Grammy loses her mind in a house She's got no memory of; she's three blocks From mama's house which burned down On Christmas. I managed to get the dog & Grammy out; my mama was having a Drink at Brenda's; woke up to crunching Sounds inside the walls & a melting steel Conduit burning my hand. Only did find One extinguisher; the can went at its Solo with undue gumption. I used to know How to express love to her. Legibly It read with regular meter & rhythm. She helped my little brother evict me From my older brother's basement late In winter. Translating pain is impossible. I head toward a motel looking for another Charge or broken relation where the songs' Derangements are far beyond the promise Of beauty's industrial rows, though the Furrows' signals are petal-like, freshly dead.