Tuesday, March 10, 2009

On Hotel Stationary

Greetings from the Isle of Revival!
Each morning the gulls peck and pull
the wasted corpses of the sea
run to shore. I stand
in my cabana tasting grapes that revive
me, I think of you, of that day, three grapes ago.
I do not wish you were here.
Your absence is my salve.

Greetings from the Port of Penance!
The sand in my shorts scours the deadness away. No wonder
that I have not heard from you. There are no phones
here; your caustic suggestions are landlocked.
Three grapes hence, the silence is reviving. I stand
along the shore to watch the tide. It slips,
I slip, back out into our beginning.
I am thankful for your silence.

I do not send greetings from home
to wasted corpses, pecked and pulled,
skeletons exposed to the sea
ere. I threw the scathing greetings
from paradise, and hope
you ferment there among the crustaceans.
The children are well. Three grapes since
they forgot who you were.

Greetings from the Nile of Renewal!
My skin is now the leather of your satchel, fawn
creased, heavy with spotting. I made marmalade today, grape
like you like. It wasn’t fit
for consumption, the gulls won’t even touch
the stuff, left forever in the sand.
I never think of you.
This place is made for escape