Poetry from Lost Roads PublishersFive poems from Ex Voto
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I thought about you Moon unusually brazen In the left window. I watch it Angle down and dim, then center And I wish it would stop For the night. Sleep's gone, sifted Through me into the blue sheets. I think I dreamed that dream again. If only a guardian Angel would appear in the doorway, palm Lifted, bringing the scent of heaven-- Gardenia and starched lace. What Could she say but aldilà? You come back Too often. Now that I've subracted Your name from mine, who can you be? Not a friend, no one. Only the mind Can boggle, the word reserved, As in the way one says my husband. A Creole conjure woman lived in this room. I catch her faint zest of oranges. Those are her calla lilies in the yard, Clean white cones I could drink milk from. Hard heels fast like yours Clipping the concrete at this hour, Some pale soul off early to work. Still it's night. Sleep, night, night, sleep. There's a truth If only I could uncover it. A rude hex, a final word cut In a gold medallion. If only My room would fill with butterflies And the thumb-sized finches That nest in the eugenia bushes. Three, four Five. I might as well lower the bucket into The well, myself into myself again. Mayes home page
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