BILL'S REDWOOD TRELLIS

I hang from my hands.
Grit & hammered bones.
Fibrous redwood, nails
Cut steel edges.
Stars.
We sleep with lights on—
Someone was murdered
Two doors down, apparently
The employee she fired.
We didn’t catch the means.

The Sioux had the right
Idea: sharpen bone.
Stab it through chest muscle,
Twice. Tie leather to
Bone & hoist into heaven
One more initiate sacrifice.

Three days later you’re a man.

My shadow hangs on the wall,
Writhes and drops.

I wonder, did Jesus train
For his crucifixion?

August 1990

BILL'S REDWOOD TRELLIS

I hang from my hands.
Grit & hammered bones.
Fibrous redwood, nails
Cut steel edges.
Stars.
We sleep with lights on—
Someone was murdered
Two doors down, apparently
The employee she fired.
We didn’t catch the means.

The Sioux had the right
Idea: sharpen bone.
Stab it through chest muscle,
Twice. Tie leather to
Bone & hoist into heaven
One more initiate sacrifice.

Three days later you’re a man.

My shadow hangs on the wall,
Writhes and drops.

I wonder, did Jesus train
For his crucifixion?

August 1990