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the state of the empire

i break my tooth on your bomb
extend an olive branch
& wait for the sky to clear

in my little world of
tiny yawns
& sleepy sighs
i wait for the stars
to fall

always at war with myself
fuzzy caterpillar  cut into pieces
this capitulation
that part of me that is
unseen

go slow   baby    go slow    but
slow doesn't get me there on time

i slop down my gruel  growling with nausea
wondering how others       still do it
still survive in their finery
as if unaware of the clear dead afternoon air
that surrounds them
it is another perfect day  & anything can happen

i bite my tongue
& bleed into myself
my unseen adversary
slashing my modest canvas again

a fisherman with hurt hands
waits mechanically for the thaw
fish within their tomb
private parts hidden
wait for a ship
to touch
the island

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