The body bags kept showing up
at the front door. Half the time
the clocks didn’t chime or work.

 

Short Buddhist morning, long Kafka night.
It feels like an endless mall in Paramus.

I lost the time of day about three weeks ago
right after the siesta in the trembling rain,
right after the blue dream in the saffron forest,

Some fires you start, you can’t seem to put
out. It’s that one match
struck, which glowers throughout

As you curl up
your smooth buttocks
lazy against my stomach