yakking up hair balls

like a red tabby house cat,

champagne photolaughter

at the hordes milling on

the bull stride streets

uncanny and wareless

class of another habit

in the back den, the dim

drawing light through

the vertical blinds,

fence me in a bird

cage, white filigree lace

stitchings up the broad-

side of my neckline

waning bated mute

on the baroque mantel

heavens to marble

hearth wares

sortie fares

of mismanagement

and re-financing mortgage

mania in the handicapped

bathroom stall in the ladies

room at McDonalds:

we were somewhere

mid-Virginia, south to

Appalachia bound out of

town after town of white

window sills, and the

wood painted between

single glass panes

that shiver

when we shut them,

shuffle up them the rafters,

the attic banisters hold

the trees back, standing

at attention, planted by

human hands, they are

not where they would

have been naturally

by bees, and falling

acorns, fearlessly to the

foraging forest floor, and

the black beetles crunching

carefully between monstrous

hungry leaves, the mud

under-crust stuck wailing

alone in masturbatory

waiting lists,

and micromanaged

biological

warfare mechanics:

waging conflicts,

as opposed to the former

calling of things as they

were, stared down

the stark moon

of the Mall,

glaring in my ear canals

locked like Heaven holds

a baby waiting for its

Mother Mary

come to me, my

country tis of thee