Totentanz
The obsidian sky whacks Kansas
with the broad of its sky broad
steel: enraged, wives sail from
windows with obsidian patience.
I mean obsidian wives sail past
the farcical sky, as the sun struts
behind its grey mask, the way you
sit at the table with the lights off
(though they are on). Kansas first
of Blood, then the Movie. Theatre
of images, of serpents of the blood
no good at pretending, though
the lights are on. A place fictive
but for the movements of death
that is not death, but what’s there,
like any place. Details details
turn the lights off the wind howls
but the trees don’t seem to notice.
So it’s just us did I say Kansas
I meant where you are plain or puszta
your feet the floor a little dust in the corner
the coyotes trot by a horde of welsh mice
ravishes me what doesn’t, showy rural
prude: the sea came away in your eyes
is that what they call a color?
Cactus snagging my pant-leg
totentanz macabre as plants embracing
whoever they want us to be.
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