Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Ronald Baatz

Cement Buddha

The wind has attached a piece of newspaper to
……the cement Buddha’s head.
Alone, I eat out of the iron frying pan using an apron
……for a napkin.
I feel like a cracked seed filling with grim evening light.
If I fall asleep with
……my pen, in the morning I’ll read the marks on the sheets,
……looking for the ordinary
……and the profound.

In the fruit bowl, the two brown pears appear to be
…..made out of clay.
Hedy’s insisting I help paint the kitchen.
And she claims that her one ear doesn’t hear, anymore,
…..what the other hears.
One hears the tiger’s claws falling through fire and flesh.
One hears snow rising to tops of trees where the branches
…..are blue.
My face appears worn, and my
…..eyebrows are sprouting wild gray hairs
…..which form arcs that stab at my forehead.

After watching a film in the barn with the landlord
……Hedy and I have a nightcap on the back porch.
Later there is another failed attempt at making love.
My excuses: the unceasing heat, allergy pills and
……existing on zero sleep.
She doesn’t bother to make any.
Later I watch her sprawled in sleep.
Her eyelids are of private concerns.

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