Great-Uncle's Village by Marriage
Roy Frisvold

Something's not here --
its notice grew old,
crawled off to die.

. . . . .

His brother has wrinkles
marking his door.

. . . . .

An egg near
the altar of a skillet
puts its horse back in the dream.

. . . . .

Fabric lines the one
sound the death
wears.

. . . . .

Open the box and play
with its eyes.

. . . . .

Burning the second picture
was not as interesting --
it gave off the same
smell of gloves as the road.

. . . . .

The corners of last night
were hauled down the road
by two little shadows
now at the door.

. . . . .

I notice kids broke
that foot in the grass.

. . . . .

There's an old rumor they call it
"Sister."

. . . . .

Letonia died when you were out
of your mind with premonitions
of my death.

. . . . .

She also said "Animal spirits..."
and then, smiling and pointing:
"Waxed paper."

. . . . .

Going in, and coming out,
her mother kisses the doorway
of her own bedroom.
The doorway has no door.

. . . . .

They have given this table
an undercoat of screams.

1996 © 2010