one wound in two hearts

1975

thursday

6:37 pm

sounds sift in through the window screen—

the car door slumps shut, his keys fumble

for shelter in a worn pocket,

unrepentant shoes scuff sideways

and vaguely onward across the porch

like sleepwalking serpents on

hopeless hardpan,

syncopated and

stuttering

spirits fall back out of the wishing well,

whispering

in my room, homework and hands

are now a still life in G-minor, my ears gone rigid—

gangling antennae sweeping for mines

front door open

front door closed

and night falls

my ozone dread and his electric shame
strain to arc through the emptiness again