Dissonant Bells

A procession of cars --
A chorus of sparrows --

Their morning spiritual sits heavy on my chest.

The church bell disintegrates my bones,  

Extinguishes tongues of fire that dance above my head, 

Silences mad utterances that rattle my teeth. 

  

(I recall honey-laden bees --

The hill of shooting stars --
Its' fragrance lost in Irish locks,  

And the dissonant bell on the day of rest
That dislodged my skull.) 

  

The procession continues

Towards the Tabernacle of Saints and Sinners. 

  

(And to think, flame at my window,  

Once you burned across my world.)

Prophecy 7 plus years ago...

Nana

you were 6

i hugged you as we twirled
from kitchen to porch your chubby cheek pressed against mine
we whirled down the steps
across the lawn
the man in the moon grinned
& sprinkled us with pixie dust
i thought you'd ignite
in colored flames
like a catherine wheel
on the day of the dead

then the sparrows sang
& the man in the moon
closed his eyes & i sobbed
till my larynx almost ruptured
& my heart escaped
& vanished
into the cresting light
in the east