– for Donald Trump
I see the desert. The desert
that sees for me are my arms
that hold her the way I must have
when she came to me. I diid not see
then, the way I do now. Now the
body is cut out from rocket stone.
Still, she is so beautiful in her red dress,
made and fitted with mortar fire, and as it
dries, for she rains down on me,
she comes to me once more.
I love that she matches the flowers
they planted, perfumed with steel and hair.
Oh, what other loveliness blooms under
the speed of glorious light,
eyes eternal as zeros, spoons of fruit,
astonished by this desert truth, that Relativity is
the afterlife, a heartless eternity, bursting
with stars, and cries, and rocket propellent,
forever, a hole’s embrace.
– ph, 31/1/17 Ancaster, ON