March 14, 2011 Verse Daily
Web Weekly Feature


Spin like this, the pinwheel, aflame in air,
whistled to me. This way to the water,

the half-drowned children sang, sopped things
hauled up blue. Crows screamed, laid siege

to the seeded field. Careful, the wind was careful
not to say, though I was born with a bubble

in my mouth: a harbinger, cardiac in nature.
I will not be glib about this. I gripped her fist

and kissed her. I was implicated. O
weighty world, lush, relentless: amid

your blossoming conflagrations
I understood I would not avert my heart.

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