Day is marigold painted enamel,
art wrapped in bird feather voodoo,
rain and sun the same white rib.
Canon spiders knocking childtrick
cadavers over stone, your
crylove mouth in my hands as a hostage.

Where are your frog and fern secrets?
Where is your moon-voiced woman?
I am eternally dumb to your hazel aching,
peacock blue business of love.

The isle-man womb is a bag of
rainy bones and dark organs,
maggot and ghost rich brother creatures.

Water diamond words, your face
a maroon strumming, mermaid of
virgin seas, our salt-finger mornings
are poured and spent silence.

Michael P. Ladanyi
 ©Copyright, 2004

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