Charon Dream #9

Night shivers 

in blue jean 

on a long Sunday, 

the glazed moon 

cool and stiff, 

never taking off its jacket 

a large boat slips into day 

and into the succeeding year 

how does one moment follow another? 

quietly at first, 

stealing sips from both 

desire dresses in tangerine 

spreads jam on the horizon 

giving you toast 

telling you it’s beginning 

the passengers are asleep at the wheel

at so-and-so christening 

turning from the screen just at the gash 

they are pulling up flowers and 

scattering themselves into the mud 

then forgetting 

the mother next to you cowers, 

she doesn’t want to drink 

from the open mouths 

on the bloody book, 

the man next to you meditates 

the drunken sailor becomes sick with want

someone sings an absurd song;

the school of mackerel flop on the deck,

the young dying first, 

a dog howls at the hull, 

a old woman watching things fall

and be built again 

the present is passage: 

moving slower adoring the window, 

faster looking for answers in their eyes.