Eye
turned to see you,
mind-star, ancient
beam
sharpened to a blade
by memory
cutting a path through
many years' midnight.

Tormentor, nurse,
imp flouting a floral print;
would that I could
ignore you,
rank, delighted heckler —

Hey Fuckhead, remember when ...

like a lighthouse blinking
open forgotten
regrets; each
lucent
snake hunts the weedfloor
of a neglected garden.
Also
my singing council, my
circling titan
daughter, defender against
false memory's magpie —

Serve your dry
lick to the inner ear,

clear my way for the finding;
you know I want to lie.

Sever the sutures:
reveal me
as the same,
false
raveller

who cherishes
the chiding (the chiming)
he knows will heal him
to conceal him.











From Poetry Magazine, Vol. 187, no. 4, January 2006. Used with permission.