Dream State

Even the places here are turning
to dreams.
From the bus window, I point out landmarks:
I used to live on the second floor of a blue house down that street
I used to buy lunch from the hot buffet in that market and then skip dinner
I used to feed the feral cats in that park and was especially fond of a black and white kitten
but I don’t remember
the street address, the best entre, the kitten’s name.
Where I was and
who we were
a decade ago, two decades ago,  
half-a-century past
is nearly unconjurable,
as if it never,
as if you never
happened
at all.

Doe License

Balanced
like tempered steel, well-honed to slice
and leave
no bruise, the hunter
slides easily between bone, pierces
deftly into the heart and wounds
with a simple twist.
Smoothly,
from point to hilt
he pulls back, slowly
whets blood
from the edge of the blade.

 

 

-written about 1993

Published in the broadsheet View from the Second Floor