I: HORIZON
It is an angle of attack
the line an argument might take
for some it is a winning streak
It is the sliver of pure black
where saints and sailors disembark
somewhere to rest or a long walk
II: MNEMONIC in remembrance of me
Speechless, they gather to be fed
to lay the tables in the head
to cover them with flesh and blood
Arresting images indeed
idiots, lips moving as they read
the dead feasting upon the dead
III: EXPLORAÇÃO
It was too strange to be ignored
was too desirable for words
it was the startling cry out loud
America. New-found reward.
A silence promptly overpowered
by speakers of the True Word.
IV: INTERIOR
One by one the fingers curl
clench unclenching round the bowl.
A teacup clatters and is still.
Christ you drive me up the wall
How an argument can fill
this empty house a new hell.
Previously published in PN Review 163 (2005)