OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE
CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR

I am finished with my morning song       Distant leaves
beckon        Precise images         slow to a sleepwalk

Scarred angels/tea ceremonies/candent light

The man I loved has become a moth

*

Rigrag of mid-day      curls into slumber       Tomato worms
gather      static lightning       bouquets of statice

The years elide
on the tarmac

*

Bone china: "Imagine the fire/that made this cup
shine/like milk, flower/blue as iron"

Marzipan, honey      beet fields under
a nimbus sky

Persimmons      tart on the tongue/       rat's cry  /
the eyes of owls      open into my sleep

*

Apple-bells ringing from all the orchards/      only
the rind of the day is left

She is named Ileana, Irini, Illa       I,   I,   I

A cabbage moon is pulling the tides

*

Her perfume is Datura

Some nights there is fog

_________
The quoted lines are from a poem entitled
"Bone China" by Theodore Worozbyt, Jr.,
 in Southern Poetry Review, Volume XXXIII, No. 1, Spring 1993.

　

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