Contrary to popular opinion the table won’t abide the chair
The violet is shrinking beneath the blue umbrella
In the night air her match head flares
Raindrops fall in different sizes
The old man collects them in colored boxes
Windows are walls and still the bird gets in
Below the plank the clock is ticking
Rocks, trees, flowers, mammoths, etc. He’s no different. You lead, follow, slant,
pool, or crawl up the yellow cliff. Leave when the light-giving ball descends.
Return to tease him by the fire. He still wonders where you sleep
***
Tonight, crouching by the fire, he patterns the backside of an ivory plate with
dots. On the front he carves the Great Hunter. The flint draws the huge club
between two legs
Heads are white when the accordion contracts
and the master cuts the strings
Before the bodies collapse I snatch them up
and transport them to the circle of grass
beneath the sprawling oak
*
Three toddlers on a pastel quilt
On two corners Momma and Auntie Jan
A most specious light