—LEARNING TO CRY WITHOUT TEARS TAKES A LOT OF SKILL AND EXPERIENCE 

 

Number 17A

 

This morning the cat

is speaking in tongues

and the stereo’s playing

with matches

while I keep trying

to juggle each empty carcass.

It’s a visceral occasion,

a Jackson Pollock contusion,

though the days fold themselves

into the panty drawer

neat as crimson blintzes.

If you left a note,

it must have got

snatched by crypt-keeper.

He’s been known to filch

whatever he finds

most authentic and offensive.