Two Poems
M. Lemos

A Note

A background in birds
makes viscous their sight

surprise under the surface
the circumstance.

A tension burns everything:

deals in blends, fades of heat
what is distinct.

Not that there's anything.

Finished, or Reluctance

Some evil I can respect:
after all, some music
I won't hear. Only same goes
to exorcise that slack
the slim lady belts. How is
if it kills you?

You're good:
you and your dead body.

Merely, my love, the skull
over your eyes. And another.

The end is pulling.