I: Animalcule

         But not shell
from this weakened
center of yolk
oiling daily breath
& periscope
looked-upon
where ocean
buried the winter in me
a silence-maker
the sun of a faded war
patina by smoldering glass
souvenirs of my palm
even in a lucent sheen
growing
dizzy--a lute
but I this rough
bark torso
creep from
dark embryo this
light-filled measure
palms and alarums
mechanizing the clouds
upon our discontent
made to court an amble
even the cloth
souls of our house creep
along wisteria paths
writing the sun
into my pillow--
not overlooking
the smallest
ray

*

I chisel “umbilicus”
in the calabash--
you are no longer
of me-- & breathe
this ionized
husband in
eating him
from a coiled tree
patterned
out of Venetian
masks into hands
with sex
trying him
from the sweat
factory of a faded
wife

*

in body whisper
alarm wrapped
in fragile shells
of shattering--
keep the winter
of me a wanton
amorous looking-
glass I
that am of this fair
& miniature