Go with the lava flow,
down to the indifferent sea,
puffs of smoke like rain
on the trash-strewn mountainside.
The engine fluts each stop sign,
swoons and coughs till babytalk
brings it purring back.
Will we make it home?
Doubtful we could walk there.
Dictionary, mace, chocolates
for the children, silver for the gods.
‘Silver for’ … she mocks him,
slumped in the infancy of this latest
dream, and copping to the fantasy
of her and him and the army of
shadows, drained.
Devour each minute,
there’ll be no seconds,
so eat quick and save the savoring
for the next world. The long moment
when the street slows into shadow,
shutters come down,
the birds fold their wings.
The ache, the long, deep dart
and the last selection of weapons.
Stars poised behind fading skies
sigh the day away, night beginning
to spread her lights.