You Move the City

Your walking shifts the pattern of the street,
Invents the view, refashions and refines
The old horizons, so their edges meet
In several places, forming several lines.
You move the city as a sporting feat
And leave us with these motley, split designs.

Mosaic, serpentine, and wholly bright,
The new designs seem carelessly displayed
And aimlessly devised, too swiftly made.
The stars, which used to shine a stylish white,
Have darkened with the other parts of night.
The sun, until this morning, never swayed
Or shivered. Still, what can we do? Upbraid
You for this darkness, blame you for this light?

I Bare My Chest

I could defend myself, but I will not.
I could remind them that my history
Is theirs, and when they're spitting dirt at me
They're only throwing out the gifts they bought,
And throwing back the load of fish they've caught:
It was too easy – leaped out of the sea
Seeking a hook to bite, improbably.
I tell them, Go ahead, take one more shot.

I bare my chest, I sing, I demonstrate
The way skin glistens on a moonlit night
Through trellises and vines, a dappled light
On tingling arms and shoulders. It grows late,
My heart beats slowly, timed to rhyme with fate,
And wait for knives. I'm in an unfixed state.

Masque

You looked good at the funeral today:
Black suits you well, especially the veil.
As we remembered him, grown wan and pale
From love, and sadness, and rebuked dismay
(You mentioned that you told him he should play
To ease the minutes past), you did not wail
Or argue that our lives might have grown stale.
A silent frown kept such remarks at bay.

I see you understand emotional
Refulgence, brightness stolen as a thief
Takes furniture, and, broken on a reef,
Your boat sinks slowly. It's a notional
Shipwreck, we see you as devotional
Or, failing that, you could just fake the grief.