72
Between the swamp gas of your ghostly Mardi Gras
& surly clowns attached to every crossroad bar
between a ghoul-dug knight & very bored Aurora
under cherubim above the electric chairAbove the undertow over the lead-gray sea
beneath the slippery clay below the frozen ground
between the royal mattress & his flattery
his beggared silver sword & her deflected woundBetween the old has-been & his all-wet twin bed
between the Queen of Beats [a nothing there Will comes]--
& to the blinkered soul a something sweet & red
a sky-burnt fire truck or handkerchief of plums& in the savage dark one scandalized blue lamb
one jacknife dove unfolds & whispers float-- I am...
Henry Gould | Island Road 73
Contents | Mudlark No. 6