near normal


oh let the candle
handle the last
details

your knees will lock
as you don doublet
and whistle---

each bleak step ferments
the reminder,
eggs
on the rivals to your

green flame,
bundled
like so many back aches
in tribute to fur,

we walked,
arched
by penniless softwoods
unable to buy their freedom.

Black waves cut
knotted fingerprints,
leaving
our normal amazement.

1/05