DAY 23, POEM 23: MAMA SAID, MAMA SAID

Lazy despite a lifetime of meditative impulsive denial
killing for spite but these days burial ain't cheap
and who wants to be bent over a splinter-handled shovel?
not me

Drifting brooding halo-eschewing creatures sealed
in a concrete ring blue spent voicing their to-don't lists
still slim in the torso with cinematic imaginings
of flight

Estranged skin and unbearable silence how havoc carries
an aura whether you want it or not and these passe
arrangements are blank of aloof hostility
and vision

History has been reduced to one gifted moment
now just nostalgic sadness and remarks gone running
on blind instinct the surface invisible like an arcing
wake sidling

The dealer so frail he questions everyone her particularly
like a sworn enemy still suffering from ancient slights
a responsible job had her on one knee from sickness
with humility

Her song lipstick cool and invisible just sad and horrible
and old its survival waived sincerity and character in favor of
six deaf impasses unwanted but available for
the taking