Thomas Hayes



I.

brass-knuckled
cellshape

parasitic
greedy like a blind hatched bird
& clawing at what holds the body together

the small organs
(the minor arcana)
and the viscosities,
the ducts and vessels open

up helpless
starved yet bursting
a din of rot
a body made incoherent
the scaled-down war
cancer cell versus
its everything enemy

all this in micro
while macro

all the while
some body walks
house to car, laughs or
spits a green alcohol
into the sink clutches
stomach and begins to wither

on the vine of the body
on the vine of what pain is possible.


II.

tom do not die
everything cracks open
my heart
your house

trite but true
i hardly know you



your laugh echoes
from a thousand rooms

i want to visit but
i cannot bear to see your body
broken like this, breaking

cannot bear the small months
of your death.





November 2003 © Jesse B. Castaldi