‘Mesopotamia’

the histories I had to unlearn

     *

nothing in the way of thunder at sea

     *

scapulars worn on both sides

     *

he wondered if she kept the picture of him

shaking hands with an octopus

     *

encyclicals of yellow falling leaves

     *

somehow he missed seeing the preserved right index finger of Saint Teresa

     *

counting jimmy-legs in the waiting room

     *

sad sagging man-boobs of the subway shooter

     *

he’s philosophically aligned with the quotes on herbal tea bags

     *

a folded dishrag above his dogmatically clean sink

     *

auditing the billowing clouds

     *

even in a place of no escape

there are analog leaks of light

     *

the boy in the last row

says he always stares at the sun

     *

an hour after the eclipse

the whole moon to myself

     *

it’s like an urgent announcement I can’t quite hear

     *