Remember the waterfall before the explosion?
The way the tide whispered its secret blunders,
requited our passions, wherever they get born? 

I was kidding when I said that I owned a boat.
You seemed naïve and in need of silly promise.
I told you everything you wanted to hear—more. 

Sister Ben fell through the river ice and left us
to learn the strategies of the frost, its cargo. 
To learn how to confine its powers to the mind.

I fell in love with you when the ships landed.
They brought you in, put you together piece
by tender piece with your tallies of hair 

and your smilemask. The baby needs to eat.
We'd forgotten.  Must'a been we were wasted, 
I dunno?  We leapt off the ruined bridge 

to vote for nobody. Remember: in the silence 
before the landing ships broke darkness's 
zipper, a young angel was drawn and quartered, 

humankind's last.  The sacrifices did nothing 
except bloody my new white couch. I can't 
help but imagine the eyes of a once-lover’s body.  

Don't worry.  The sky is made of Wonder Bread
and yellow Legos, but no child can swallow it. 
When you run away, your shadow takes your shits

for you—new age, new ease.  Convenience-
orium.  We learned that man can laugh
at something else in pain and accept his reward. 

Another day went by and I knew even less
about the world around me, its flora and its dogs 
that look like tiny cow bugs.  All of the cell walls, 

every stunning animal vanished and went.  
I could hear that crazed sound, nails clicking 
through the hollow street.  I meant to say stone.  

The sonata of stones triggered the earth's redundant 
lime, but not the thing itself.  I watched it all burn 
on margarine fumes, calm quiet morning blaze.