Three Poems

Manny Grimaldi

Mirror Sonnet

The light rests upon you,

all claim to defense crumbles.

When nothing matters—

you can’t even believe what you see.

Do you believe what you hear?

I used to pretend everything,

while believing nothing, do you see

the flowers are for eating?

Plow where we are, steady search,

let’s get behind the mule,

cast for drifting shadows.

And in cracks under doors

play peek-a-boo with me

though I tremble.

*

Though I tremble,

play peek-a-boo with me.

And in cracks under doors

cast for drifting shadows.

Let’s get behind the mule.

Plow where we are, steady search—

the flowers are for eating,

while believing nothing, do you see?.

I used to pretend everything—

do you believe what you hear?

You can’t even believe what you see.

When nothing matters—

all claim to defense crumbles.

The light rests upon you.

I am broken pottery no kiln would fire together again. Depression whittles muscle in swiftest strokes. Tonight it is acute cardiac dysfunction of the left ventricle. The chamber takes shape of tako-tsubo, an octopus trap—a wide-bottomed, tapered-top jar. 

Derby rains on us—

Kentucky crowds in houses.

Harmed minds resist pain.

Trunks thick protrude, wet with pulsing blood. Your upper lip met outside an airport turnstile is bright red like your Cadillac car at tow in the snow. Our baggage drops. This must be the place. My shirt wet on your chair—in seconds, despair this is already over. Are you there? Hot Burrito #1 plays, Parsons croons he will keep you warm at night. Your wild heart bled on me. I didn’t cut you. Hours later you beg me leave, my left arm ache and chest cage thrum bled. The tissue, narrow tops— shrunken muddy-brown, beating, swims an organelle, floats a mitochondria forever interred in a vast Egyptian urn.

Breathing underworld

Caseleaves of Edō die in flame.

Me, wrapped around you.

A flurry.

Each separate snowflake

a fading note.

Across the field,

deeper, the wider power gentle—

it fills gentle, gentle—it is space,

and such is the reason

each of us

are next to the other

we dust the ground

and gathered

we are heaviness

             impossible alone

                              we are heaviness.

                              and gathered

                              we dust the ground

                              are next to the other.

                              Each of us.

                              And such is the reason

                              it fills gentle, gentle, it is space—

                              deeper, the wider power gentle,

                              across the field

                              a fading note.

                              Each separate snowflake

                              a flurry.