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Ice cathedral and glass
in expensive Japan
someone is dancing a solitary riot
to a solar wind your being let loose
in its jazz sleep
the sugary corners draw rats
ghostly occurrences start the car
dumpsters hum with electricity
two white and black cats
darting out of the storeroom,

Cardboard hideaways spill satin
the death-note left smoking on the clipboard,
a soul dangling in high racks
of aging plastic, tin siding splits
its rails, and opens up into the apple
orchard; we are always, sub-here,
we have always been here among tanks
of tall emergency water,
even when we danced on pottery
and picked the day out of our hair

With the comb of a gone aunt,
banging a piano in a sun-eaten ward,
the confusion of seasons descended upon us
we were unaware, we were picking apples
from limbs of war, grew used to it
filled wells with salt
that would not birth our world over us.