A Song of the Living

How her bra keeps slipping at the beach

slipping in the play of the waves

& their feet kicking up sand

as they chase each other there in the spray…

Spray of the waves coming in 

spray of the salty waves splashing

spray of the waves showering bodies at play

Lovers’ bodies glistening in the wash of the spray 

& sweat glistening too in the heat of the sun

He catches her fiddling with her strap, loosening it, making it slip

it slips at last, she lets it slip

there in the sand

there where the foaming waters break at her feet

He looks at her

looks at her standing there

looks at her body glistening there in the spray

glistening with sweat & the droplets of spray

& her brown breasts gleaming in the light of the sun

Falling together into the sand

letting themselves fall

he slides it hard into her soft place

& she with heavy breath

digs her heels into the sand as he goes in deep

there where the foaming waters break at their feet

buttocks grinding in sand to the crashing of waves

there in the light & the heat of the sun

the movement of bodies showered with the spray of the waves

& later the sight of sand on her buttocks walking away

walking to fetch banana & pineapple 

there in the evening sun turned red

red as the parts of the lovers at rest from their play

Lovers eating & talking & laughing

blowing up smoke into the red of the sun

& how the sweat, semen & sand wash away in the waves…

One for the Dead

He wondered then. Wondered where they had gone. All those that had left him. The ones death had taken. Maybe over to the old mountain. Maybe that's where they dwell now. Or down at the foot of the canyon, where things sometimes grow, where dead things come alive again, sometimes. He wondered when it would rain again.

He'd been gathering firewood that day. But the wood was dry, dry & brittle. Burnt up too fast & the smoke stung his eyes. Maybe if I cry a little the ones who've gone will hear me. But he didn't cry. And he felt too that it can't be far, the place the spirits of the dead fly off to. Sometimes when the wind hit him just right or a bird came by he felt himself in the presence of his brothers. And his sisters were of the earth, he was sure of that. You scoop up soil & hold them in your hand. And then it is just like this fire. The wood doesn't go away, it just turns to smoke. Then once it's up there it turns into air. And little specks of your brothers come down with the rain. It really is like that, yes. 

Animal Praises

Hedgehog 

moves softly

ruffles no one

wears a forest of speared insects

for a coat

Crow

feeds on the carrion of beasts

bigger than him

he'll do better

in the afterlife

than most monks

Marten

master scavenger

who'd find food under a roof tile 

whose furry ass

somehow

never gets stuck in a drainpipe

Pitbull

sniffer of a woman's bloody crotch

after he takes a noseful 

lays at her feet

& pays homage

Chicken

long dead

bloated on a heap of straw

push down on it some time

& hear it pass wind

from the grave

Cat

soft-footed killer

gone for a week

greets his host with

a butcher's plate of mice

on the rug