hard poems (I)

grito

cracked angel she is the bitch in heat
with the weather crying blood mercy
she smells of a million tear drops
she smells of the sea
and the salt giveth and taketh
and the water drowns and drowns
but we can hold her eternal
strapped down by leather belts
tied to chair legs and the kitchen sink
these are the old ways
the forgotten ways
a ritual of blue bruises that sing
and the dog that croaks to the ceiling
this is how saints are made

and what of a star's sex?
it is burning and burning
always dying
burning and burning
a million years ago
when you feel her heat
see her light
she's already gone

S. Sparling