'Tick', 'tock', 'tick', 'tock', the ticky-tocky click of the clock continued to beep
'Ree-raw', 'ree-raw', the roaring of the frogs was heard over and over in the deep
I stood awake to solve a riddle, a jigsaw puzzle, denying my eyes of sleep
Caged in a cottage of low rentage my wage could pay, hoping I did keep
'Ko', 'ko', 'ko', 'ko', was the jangly sound from the corner where the roof did leak
Hitting hard my tympanum as the woodpecker does the tree with its beak
"Oh no!, I'll have to go" were the very words my sullen mouth could speak
Indeed!, first thing before noon, it was the Thatcher that I'll have to go seek.
Like two hungry wanderers,
We met.
I, from the direction
You were set.
I was cupping a story
And all you had was beauty.
I poured my powdery story
On your breast
And then on your head.
With my tongue, I drummed
On your tympanum
Till you danced the dance
Which carried to the distance
The thump… thump… thump
Of our leathery hearts.
Briskly, briskly till they split.
Now, riven
Forever by too much passion.
The miasma of stillborn feelings
Hangs on within like an undying warble
To garnish our memories.
For it was such bloody ambrosia
That stripped us
Absolutely of all:
Garments, flesh, and bones;
Heart, mind and spirit.
Grandma promised me a dove
From her heart's inner deep
To me to forever keep
In my heart's nest
Perfect for her sound rest
Grandma setout among the clouds
Thence millions cooed out loud
Into the tympanum of an azure sky
As the soared afajato high
Grandma set her aging eyes round
a dove in a million was found
That I wanted she'd it all
But did not heed Nana's call
I am from a woman
who stretched out her breath
upon a hundred years,
and strikes upon this day
a distant voice,
a thunder tympanum advancing
low across the sky,
a heartbeat rising from the earth,
more eloquent because she is and was
a symphony without a score...
a dialogue of resonance within
that stretches out the years instead
and makes their number meaningless.
I, a part of the premiere,
partaking of the air that left her nostrils,
of the milk that drained her breasts,
am from a heritage of love;
a quiet patience that was her bequest,
adorned her like a jewel
too lovely to display its fire
but from her open heart.
~
Disrespected youth, bug guts on a windshield
Happiness confronted with indifference
Sealed with plastic, it crinkles my tympanum
Washed aloft a cerulean sea
Blankets keep me warm, not safe
The frog jumps from pool to puddle...
brain-death spark
exhibits its unconscious species net
no more heartbeats
the cold amphibious skin is icy...
scalpel drill claw tweezers
cuts butter-like biceps
triceps tympanum
that will spend the night
in the formol thrash can...
radius tibia will be eternal
in the skeleton stand...
hyperclean surgical gloves
among soap pumps
clean hands
all sterile
one or two tears
a small dignified silence
and all has ended
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