Chicagoetry: The Heart Is A Lonely Fucker

THE HEART IS A LONELY FUCKER

Like a Prairie Falcon landing on my breast,
the God inside me clenches, and your face comes
to me.

You have landed, again a waking dream. As in a dream,
setting constantly transmogrifies, details, red-tails fly
at whim.

You are a solid, silent earthquake. As in a dream,
setting constantly breaks apart. I crawl, clutching
grass.

My glass breast cracks. Tonight you shall fly across
the universe, and I will miss you, miss you, miss
you.

The Jack-o-Lantern moon grins falsely a-skim the glass
lake. This black beach is autumn night which lands
bleakly.

This silent tongue, the lake, laps the crystalline wind,
the dim, gold aura of moon crawls obliquely from the
horizon,

hissing light.

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J. J. Tindall is the Beachwood's poet-in-residence. He can reached at jjtindall@yahoo.com. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.