Poetry

He wants- 
to sort through the voices 
he used to hear- 
in his head, 
 
to understand the vexed past. 
He will make his bent arm 
a bow and shoot 
a moon between the doors. 
 
Walk with a snake in grass 
and feed his children. 
Irreverence becomes an import 
from the strangers. 
 
When you were burning 
inside, what was the need for the family 
of periwinkles 
to condole with jingles. 
 
A timer device 
explodes on your face. 
A human bomb unfathers 
a class of hibiscus.