In Heaven Blues

there ain’t no assisted suicide in heaven
and the grocer never has my favorite beans
there ain’t no assisted suicide in heaven
so for dinner I make do with cooking these

there ain’t no assisted suicide in heaven
and the angel’s harps are slightly out of tune
there ain’t no assisted suicide in heaven
and none of the girls in the choir sound like you

there ain’t no assisted suicide in heaven
so I’ve started eating pears off of this tree
there ain’t no assisted suicide in heaven
and I know you didn’t wait around for me

Concept of the Sun

Go dark for a moment, the world erupts

In alarm. Return to the fire of light,

And calm returns. I have read in a book

That you destroy yourself, cleaving your heart

In an explosion of joy and comfort.

Though your warmth and vast power will outlive

Us all, one day you will lay your burdens

Down. In the years before the final flash,

I pray that you gaze one time toward me

Forgetting all that I wanted to take,

Then burst aflame across the endless void-

Forever the most beautiful star in the sky.

Bowerbird

Shall I grow daisies or delphinium

At the door, or would you prefer flowers

Carefully cut and drinking from a vase?
A hundred seashells from a dozen seas

Adorn the steps. I have captured the sun

In a jar, snuff it out if you desire

Darkness. Shall I show you all that shimmers?

A hoard of gold and silver, mere marbles

But I will stretch them to a braided band

If ever you should wish to wear a crown.

The wind like the fluttering of feathers

Chills me for a moment, you disappear.

Plastic milk caps, glinting foil, copper coins—

I was a fool to hope you could be fooled. 

Oubliette

My love, I called out but you would not sing.

Lanterns in my temple darkened. The moon

Shone crimson. No owl or insect was heard.

I lit a match beneath that sharp shadow.

I held it until my fingertips singed.

I quickly lit another. Nothing moved.

I was alone and had no grand desire

But your arms around me. Impossible.

I will not need to call your name again.

Light a match! Tremble at my blasphemy!

For I have made another one of you,

And I have imprisoned that one within me.

Shake Off the Dust

You can keep something on a shelf too long—

Batteries drained of blood, slack elastic,

Motionless clothes remembered by the moths.

Ink hardens. Paper turns to light, then air.

For all these years I drank my coffee black.

In some way it was like seeing her face.

I would claim it was all unbearable,

To suffer being replaced and replaced

Until the sky froze and the moon fell down,

But I can hear her piercing mocking laugh,

Her condemnation of cream and sugar,

And I so desperate for her regard…

If I am compelled to tell the whole truth

I craved to trade the sweet for the bitter.

Now those moments are a decade removed,

And almost all of that time spent without her.

The world entire was the point of a sword

As I stumbled through a haze of nightmare.

Why torment myself over a woman

Who discarded me and chose another?

The seven years expired. The sand ran out

And yet I stared into the emptied glass.

A coworker woke me with a question.

She asked if I needed a drink. I asked

For coffee. “Black,” she said with a wise nod—

Not the first time I have begged for a cup.

I stopped her. “No,” I said. “Cream and sugar.”
“How much sugar?”

        “Um, one standard unit.”

“How much cream?”

        “I suppose one will do.”

She handed it over. I twirled the spoon

And smiled at the sound of scraped ceramic.

I closed my eyes. I took a drink. It tasted good.

Grief

A little over nine years ago you called me in the early hours of the morning to let me know that Andrea was gone. Today I was working and going through my normal conversational script. I was nearly done speaking with my customer when I recalled that she worked in your office, just around the corner. I was just about to ask about you- I had been meaning to call on you and attempt to arrange to get breakfast or lunch or dinner or coffee.

So, that is how I learned that you were dead.

I remember saying “What?” and then I could not hear very well.
It seems it Happened in late April. A cruel month.

I had been isolating myself from friends
and the technological innovations of our age
because I had not been managing my emotions well
and I was not interested in inflicting myself onto others.

Can we talk for a second about how fucking stupid this is?
You’re gonna bust your ass for your whole life and become a dentist,
help out all these children, give them confidence and secure their health,
then die in a car accident? It should have been me.

If it had been me it would not have been a tragedy.
Not even a surprise.
The waste I am making of my life seems offensive
now that you have departed.

Remember the summer I wasn’t eating
and you bought me all those groceries,
with that sack of rice that must have weighed fifty pounds?
Why did you do that?
Remember the night in your room at college
when I was drinking vodka out of the bottle (don’t worry I will be more precise)
and I started narcissistically ranting
about how I was practically the culmination of existence,
with the finest intellectual and artistic tastes?
It would embarrassed me if I had the capacity for embarrassment,
to say things like that and live a life like I have lived.

But if I didn’t get embarrassed
why was I afraid to show my face in your office wearing my mechanic’s shirt,
and if I’m so smart
why did I convince myself that you wouldn’t want to see me?

I do not know what I am going to do with myself.
This is not the way things were supposed to be.

Devour

I was in a parking lot buying a box of your favorite cookies.
The Girl Scout taking my money said,
“Only one? You know they are cancelling the flavor this year.”
I briefly thought of getting more, but shook my head.

Twenty-five cookies later in my room,
shaking the crumbs and powdered sugar into my palm,
I realized I would have eaten them all
even if you were coming home to me.