comber

 

in a bookcase by the sea

dreams of childhood reassert

I pick the wrack

for hints of memories, history, lives

necklaces of weed a carapace a bone

 

between green covers

Heidi sweeps her home

eats toasted cheese

and sleeps on straw

gains a baccalaureate

in alpine wholesomeness

forgets she's ever snored

between other covers

or led lives, like Biggles, who

 

drifts over Dresden

opens the bomb bay drops

his pellets in the whistling chill

they crumpet on the map below

bloom fire, blow cinders, boys

fly between buildings

burning crows, they rotate

over lava

 

there are other books here

last read in the fifties

The Bobbsey Twins

The Horse and His Boy

I can't look at them now

but go to the window

and stare out over the bay

 

where angels drown

 

with helpless wings they choke

on wave on wave of bourbon satin

saturated

spastic, still

they slip down

remembering

 

Lucifer