“Babe, suddenly, without warning, Poem-a-day throws up this extraordinary poem! Do you want to post it on the Stuff Page—it’s fucking wild.” That’s my husband. He is at home all the time.
“Sure.” That’s me.
The Morning Star
Satan turns on his wheel of light
Hovering inside the Senate.
A beauty confesses to the power of air,
A roaring socket of need.
The humans bear forth from their jelly,
Six rose-lipped mannequins.
—Who among these is most loved?
We will be forthright in our character analysis.
We will stenograph on bright, bright branches.
Even as someone might bribe us:
With a basket of fruit to our hearth;
With a length of black thread to our dead;
With a boy with that thread in his heart;
With a boy with a snail in his heart;
With a boy with toys in his heart, who are bowing.