WEBVTT

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Crimes.

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Dear disturber of the
peace, I accuse you

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of breaking and entering
my life, a quiet room whose

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windows you shattered with
light, where there was space

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enough for only one to sleep
and room for neither pain

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nor promises.

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For a brief time, I
harbored you here,

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both of us fugitives of sorts.

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Though what I flee from
is harder to describe.

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The way the sea looks
when the wind has lashed

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it black and blue, the
damage that happiness

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can cause in its
blind trampling.

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You left the way you came in
a month of vagrant leaves.

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The whole of winter
shuffling into sight.

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It's white hospital gown just
visible beyond the emptying

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trees.

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Now a pot of yellow
chrysanthemums

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burns, even at dusk, as
if the sun were going down

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at the horizon of my sill.

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I choose again a life of
plants and vegetables,

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the safety of peas
in their pods,

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the dark places in earth
where sweet potatoes lie,

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imitating stones.

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Chrysanthemums.

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Hear how the animals call
through the night, each cry

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a riddle, whose answer
you made simple.

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There are poachers everywhere.

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