The one that balanced out the flag.
The Aloha state, palm trees glinting and feathered
Like a heart, to a streetlight, tethered.
This is where your intelligence hides
While you lay inside an empty motel
Nothing but the smell of gunpowder
And sweat, and her tears on the barrel.
Who are these people? They keep breaking down the walls.
I don't know if they're fighting or making love,
These Days,
which is to say,
has there ever been much of a difference anyway?
Ice being shuffled by a small, Spanish woman
Who moves silently between doors
Crowing like a bird, to keep the house
Clean, raw, like her hands.
Strands of hair hanging loosely in front of her forehead
Dangling like your fingers in front of my face
Trying to take hold on my thoughts.
The machine hums a steady frequency
And makes ice
She thinks of the power box outside your Hawaiian home.
The emptiness is humbling.
Heatwaves are rolling along like leaves would
If there were any trees to drop them.
The body among the bed, lying in a heap
Of loose teeth and lost sleep
Of licked feet and low upkeep
When the clock strikes, you can't hear it.
All you know is the sun turns white.
And the coyotes begin to howl and whine
Under the black skylight.
The date is December 11, 2010. Please leave feedback.