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HURRY SADNESS

Hurl me through my own door
like an incantation,
I'll find you sleeping there
in a palace of wires. Goldenrodded
the field poke panoply of eyes
out of an algae'd lake, wide
bristles of silver that are not
our friends from the plant world.
Hurry sadness to save me through
these ecstatic hours,
spreading

fiddle of cattails on rattled breeze,
telepathically I command you
to start the car, then I watch
your pink limbs climb into it
from a grey shadow weather low
in the hood of a parking garage
the lights of Boston like a whole lottery

ox-like intoxication
where oblivion fights with my bones
on riverbeds, parkbench
throughly squirrel-searched,
hands folded on a stack
of thin prophecies.