Fractured bodies strewn amid the
mushroom cloud of ignorance
the battlefield belies the true seeds
that give birth to the power of deception.
The corporate leviathan devours the remainder
of our innocence
and barricades our tears,
as we lay violated
and we take our place
in the Book of the Dead.

Season of flutes
and bare arms,
the ruckus of bees
at the door,
snarl of fire engines
in this desert.

As if I needed
another reminder
of you
in winter,

It was your idea
to park and watch the elephants
swaying among the trees
like royalty
at that make-believe safari
near Laguna.
I didn’t know anything that big
could be so quiet.

My children were born in spring,
Summer’s promise on bow shaped lips
bones not yet knit together
pledge
oceans and seas
straits and channels
with lifetime alliance
cast solid and true.