Ron Moss, TZ and Sheila Windsor, Uk


fire by Sheila Windsor

watching for mars


summer's end the morning glory tendrils into cloud
queen's medal pinned to his chest the glint of gold teeth
dense macabre the mortuary light leaps knife to wall
fisherman's wharf the cat carries the ocean in a fish's eye
holding moonlight held by it a white petal falls
watching for mars she pulls him deeper into her
bloody fingernails scratch marks on the inside of the door
cat napping the smell of rosemary from the sunday roast
pond to sky dragon . . . . fly
a self portrait drips fire
picasso woman blues
harmonica wails stopping a noisy crowd
Paper angels circle the tree
peace day a child's origami crane floats upside down
his face in the glass smaller with each gulp
two brothers skip stones into their shadows
bless me father we pretend not to know each other
the mime artist sparks in polyester
candle magic a witch makes the flame jump
his bleached hair out of the top of a blue tube
footsteps on the stairs she changes channels just in time
last of a sunset returns to her face
swallow the nest you left
alone their laughter only in photographs
she wanders through the servants quarters calls to me in dreams
street walker's skirt brighter than her lipstick
the carmine rosebud never to bloom
unwrapped the wooden sledge the clink of egg-nog
bumping into a lost love our shadows meet, part, meet
emergency call the sound of velcro on the turn-out gear
Oak to ash the squirrel's flight
grandma's sideboard beyond our fingerprints the family silver
dusting my brother's boomerang he never did come
nude sunbathing most of the time thinking of crabs
dawn on our skin he asks me to pinch him
autumn the silence of frost in the wind chimes



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