Two Poems

pyre

we were on the playground
when smoke from the pyre billowed above our heads

we tried stoning the sky,
to see if we could hit a skull behind all that dark energy

birds crashed into these pillars
of truth, as if the rest of their flight were mere illusion

we stood in awe watching
the wind eat every morsel, lick its fingers clean in the dusk

and all that was left of the pyre
by morning was a trapezoid of ash and buffalo piss

 

Picnic

It's been so long

since we've had a picnic,
since we lay on a sheet

hurting

from all the gluttony,
         all the laughter,

when the aftertaste of pineapple
lulled us into dreamless sleep,

when the dog chased after fairies,
and returned

to nudge us out of our laziness,
my attention divided

between a novel
and the gurgling stream of fish

springing out the water,
butterflies    yellow    white    green

fluttered around our heads,
the scent of cake, drawing

them into temptation,
it's been so long

since we've all been together,
since we forgave each other

our distance to occasion a picnic,
at first a jigsaw puzzle

of a near complete afternoon,
then as the seasons glide,

furiously      coming      apart,
every piece

joining a rainy spot in the brain
until all that is left is

a solitary bugle

floating in space, calling for memories
to return while they hitchhike

in the opposite direction.