"pax"

mother
dove, you lay upon
a frayed euterpe frond

--pentecost
watched from our apartment. 

your husband left, once 
the next was made--
an aiguillette
--at an angle.

it was abandoned, 
end of april, 

when the heaviest
rain came; 

we feared, the children
would have a broken home 
over their hands 

--as they pounded on the glass, 
anxiously waiting . . . 

that egg
hatched, mid-may. 

pictures of you two--taken 
before skipping out with the rent, 

to settle
a duplex.  here

after work, 
you were resting 
upon that last porch step; 

and i came home, calmly sat--
in unwatered summer grass.

--praising
a blessing
at the altar.

***************************

"mass media" 
				
i'm 
thinking, 
abraham 
zapruder, 
you weren’t asked 
to edit the prints-- 
which caught a telegenic president, 
waving to an 8 mm camera ... 
following through 
that black lincoln; 
or a war, 
watched in nightvision 
green. 
distant 
explosions-- 
feeling 
buildings; still 
behind 
games 
and extra men. 
				

***********************************


"submission form"
								
i give you my coat
...poetry;
								
an unbuttoned shirt
...words;
								
a linebreak
...pants;
								
the punctuation
...underclothes
								
syllables...
shoes & socks off

								
				
© devin wayne davis