A Field for Practical Work

The sky is busy killing
earth with heat
The cooked child leaves
the womb and does not crack

The snake bites with envious sickles  
bleeding when the sun is at its zenith
then disappears into cool log or comfortable ditch

The dog senses venom and sucks it
out

Move ahead
Black Bitch
to the smoking car
withdraw your burning fangs
from my hand  

Black Bitch
tossed from wheezing train like mail sack
ambushed by sun
faints in a crumpling of skirts




The Remedy

Rose quickly (one fans the cadaver in vain) and shook
loose her humble black valise
Wheeling stranger
free hand venturing out to balance her swinging
body  
Kerosene light blinking in the windows
Moon waxing the floor


Finds herself compressed in the bellowed space between coach and diner
canvas walls which pull back like foreskin
(Whose clever fingers holding the crossed sticks?)

Starting out the hatted men worked easily
together
(Sincere thanks)
Bumped from behind with heavy suitcase and stony knee
until platform slides away

Reluctant now to take the final few steps
(What we leave we carry)
Aware of the porter’s sudden surprise
his outrage

Cunt, hitch up your skirt

And handed her an egg




Tabulated Statistics

The star is suspended high in the heavens
The apple is suspended high in the tree
The apple drops away from tree like the rain  
drop

Black Bitch fills her teapot with dew
Black Bitch fills her stomach with apple
Black Bitch cleans her hands in stream and stills the water
Black Bitch boils her victim

They come for you
slow but determined
Helping hands encircling you and tugging you skyward
panoramic perch

You see the future and it will  
be