By J.J. Tindall
BLACK SPRING
I forgot I love you.
There was a star
Above your manger
And I followed it to the Empty Bottle.
Mammals re-emerged from the air-raid shelters
Toward the buzz drone ragas
Of Red Red Meat. Bleary-eyed,
Bewildered by loss and doom,
Re-animated by the stark miracle
Of Warmth.
Fangs stained by
Tar and rain,
Blood warmth twirling under black
Stars. It is spring but it is black.
It is black but it is spring it is spring.
Men bloated and grey-haired,
Women still beautiful beautiful.
I was doing “The Air Stream Driver”
To “Air Stream Driver!” Develop
A dance! Word leaked out
That warmth returned. Word.
Tom toms: gargantuan.
Steel strings: Olympian.
Blistering ragas bled us
Of our tension dreams and mute,
Mortal terror in the stale, stooped
Night. I forgot I love you,
Wicked winter. I forgot I love!
Leaking blue books
And wild mares in heat,
Buzz drones bleat us along
Toward our brittle manger.
Fangs and mange, swirling drones,
Mammals bearing crosses
Of shimmering stars back
To the bars.
–
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.
Posted on March 19, 2009