by Mitchell Grabois
Blood
1.
Her mother raised her Catholic
but somewhere along the way
between inspecting U.S. Navy aircraft
(her softness inside their hardness)
and teaching Montessori students
(her hardness inside their softness)
Latilda joined a cult
lived in a fallout shelter
forty feet underground
scrubbed black mold from the walls
at the leader’s command
no protective gear
was taught to believe in archangels
who share their karma
with those who worship them
2.
When her father died
age 90
her mother intended to plant him
in St. Anthony’s graveyard
but Latilda’s religion specified that he
be cremated
that the smoke should rise up to heaven
where the archangels could fan it
to the four quadrants
Conflict
between mother and daughter
conflict
unbroken by death
their lifelong pattern
but now more at stake
her husband’s/ her father’s
soul
Finally the funeral director
forced their hand
He had an ulcer
didn’t have the stomach
for their argumentative
impasse
They compromised:
the body would be buried
but only after his blood was cremated
The funeral director
placed the blood in an urn
as if it were a sacrifice to
the goddess Isis
or the Minotaur
He wondered:
when this blood boils
will the dead man’s spirit
boil with anger?
Would he lash out in an
inarticulate
occult manner
that might harm me?
The blood quickly came to a
roll
like a pot on a stove
waiting for eggs
then burst into flame
Latilda
watching through the crematorium’s small window
saw the smoke
inhaled by an archangel
who had suddenly appeared
To her sharp and penetrating chagrin
the archangel had the appearance of
her high school boyfriend
stoned all the time
always ready to inhale something
cigarettes
gasoline glue
pot, if he could afford it
But then the archangel blew the smoke
through the walls
to the four corners of the Earth
Latilda ran outside to see it
(her father’s iron poor blood
transformed)
swept away by
the wild wind
which blew in all directions
at once
She knew that
now it didn’t matter
what happened to her father’s earthly body
Fear
When we made love again that night
in the silence of the abandoned mansion
the fire within Tu’s flesh
made me feel as if I were a rocket shell
rotating through the air
as I sped toward a target
When I came
I felt as if I were breaking
into a thousand pieces of shrapnel
Dizzy
eyes turning backwards
my nostrils pinched
bad leg throbbed
I’d known her for so many years
Why had we never made love before?
She had replaced my two-headed mother
and all the engrams carrying false messages
about who I was
The fear that had penetrated my
body and mind
ruled the air like the birds
ruled the trodden pathway
like the snake
ruled the trees
like iguana
ruled the forest
was gone
I was free to start fresh
D
1.
Even as the Zoloft inhibits
serotonin’s reuptake
Depression plots sabotage
D makes the irrational seem rational
the destructive constructive
D runs its schemes
D makes me believe that everything I’ve gained
I should throw away
that all security
should be shattered
insecurity the natural order
relationships should be torn apart
and I should return to the
Merchant Marine
and freight the lonely seas
with the burdens of my past
2.
Standing on the bow deck
I see skeletons riding on the backs
of porpoises
It is Dia de las Muertos
on the high seas
The sharks know my name
the whales speak in
obscure foreign languages
they’ve learned
for the sole purpose
of keeping me in the dark
The octopuses practice talking
Navajo Code
The wind in my ears
hearing aids whistle and moan
The captain laughs
at my disabilities
the navigator too
with his bad teeth
sharp like a barracuda’s
Barracuda rarely attack humans
but the navigator has me on his bucket list
for extinction
Ice
Over are the days of the ice bridges
that winter passage
between the mainland
and this island
It was only
a three-season isle
but now is
isolated
in every season
no respite
from isolation
New wolves cannot cross
to perform genetic rescue
so the remaining wolves
fuck their parents
fuck their children
The packs genetically warp
Climate change has doomed them
With few wolves
the moose population explodes
but the excessive heat stresses them
maddens them
until their parenting skills are as weakened
as humans’
Moose are running amuck
as in a low-budget zombie flick
The environmentalists give up
leave the masses to their
manipulated ignorance
join monasteries, convents
Zen retreat houses
or simply find a cave
on a mountainside
in which to live and die
There, at least, they will share the purity
of God
or the Buddha