“The Lost Lights of Cars Reflecting at Night” (Sonnet)
The lost lights of cars reflecting at night
off lilac rivers, ripple (something beats
in my liver) and strobe long, wide, and white.
The almost Spring freezes my lips, and heats
of competitors with an ax to grind,
go on pilgrimages to Jessie James’
grave. A beautiful smile crumbles a blind
eye, sets fire to paradise, and douses flames.
Under pansies, beside the jugular,
here I am. What the cat drug in too late,
half ate. Here I am to push love on her
slowly– so this liquorous escapade
retains the slightest drop of humility;
acidic apples spur train robberies.