Flowers of Bad
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Flowers of Bad

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This Anti-Terror Life: III

Only but ever before the doorway and still. Openish, but soothingly

Not the cathedral, the bells. Somehow you spot the sun on, your snake is irresistible or twenty fires and firetrucks

But there you are. The fireplace has a mantle understandably

But between you and me, this evening in the swamp, the harpies and the basilisks—hoo boy!

 

Only us, for hours and the plane rolls 180° in its sleep. Where are you this afternoon

Aunt Helen opens up a pastry store a candy store a jewelry store doesn't she or at least selling watches and jam

Or and could you be quietly jelly in the prison yard? Cat burglars skulking not slinking, osteo-

Porotic and somehow in all this mess you find a place to sit and I'm staring at you.

 

How could you or don't you don't you ever want to sneeze in the woods? like olden days and farmers pausing during hurricanes

Or the barn door won't stay shut. The terrace of blue cutting across the voice of the speaker, his trousers

Also aflame. Your neck in the cave, also aflame now and how many birds how

 

And every now and then a nun. I like flowers, your trousers

& isn't it what you've worked for all these years, the blooms in two surrounding the fire house

Or out of the faucet. O don't tell me to relax I don't I don't chime in with church bells.

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