9/Rosary of Summer

This night
drawn faces of dry crones
keening their earthly pains
the sleep that wouldn’t sleep
wings of ghost albatross flapping
over iron beds

& rosary beads scattered about
the mantle of sleep:
games insolent children play & replay
odd jobs that turn odder every minute of the day
friends whose friendship we can sneer away
lottery numbers we miss by the skin of our dreams
songs we hum to steer clear of rotten stairs

This night moves on
like a tiger on its soft wild paws
slipping into the jungle of memories
tearing the brains out
freezing the sex in the wrestle of leaves

When shall all memory cease?
This dark season of stones & myths & loves
is the laceration of children grown too fast

Like summer flies
that live for a summer

This ceremony embraces all,
even itself.

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