And the high-masted boats that we never sailed

Stand poised to explore the innocent blue.

I shall speak your name like a foreign word,

Uncertain what it means, and you—

What will you say in that salt-heavy air

On that bright afternoon that will never arrive?

HOUSEHOLD GODS

Felis catus

The gods of ancient Egypt

Have walked into the room.

While Isis and Osiris

Were sealed inside their tomb,

These sleek divinities escaped

To build their sect anew

And cultivate the worship

Of Christian, Hindu, Jew.

In mystic meditation

The gods their vigil keep.

(Only the foolish heathen

Mistake their bliss for sleep.)

No worldly care can interrupt

Their transcendental state

Of pure incorporality

Beside the heating grate.

Aegyptiacae feles,

Have mercy on your flock.

Don’t shred our brand new sofa

Or smash the Dresden clock.

Award us your epiphanies

Ablaze in morning light

And sit beside us purring

To guard us through the night.

FILM NOIR

It’s a farm town in the August heat

With a couple of bars along Main Street.

A jukebox moans from an open door

Where a bored waiter sweeps the floor.

A bus pulls up by Imperial Fruit.

A guy gets off in a new prison suit.

He’s not bad looking. Medium height.

Full of ambition. Not too bright.

He’s a low life. He’s one of the lost

Who’s burnt every bridge he’s ever crossed.

Just out of the slammer, a ticking bomb,

The Wrath of God and Kingdom Come.

It’s the long odds on a roll of the dice

For big stakes you can’t bet twice.

The cards get dealt. The wheel spins.

At the end of the night the house always wins.

He sees her alone at the end of the bar,

Smoking and hot like a fallen star.

She’s a cold beauty with a knowing wink.

If she shot you dead, she’d finish your drink.

Some guys learn from their mistakes,

But all he learned is to raise the stakes.

There’s something he forgot in jail—

That the female’s deadlier than the male.

It’s tough love from a hard, blue flame,

And you can’t beat a pro at her own game.

It’s the long con. It’s the old switcheroo.

You think you’re a player, but the mark is you.

She’s married but lonely. She wishes she could.

Watch your hands! Oh, that feels good.

She whispers how much she needs a man.

If only he’d help her. She has a plan.

Their eyes meet, and he can tell

It’s gonna be fun, but it won’t end well.

He hears her plot with growing unease.

She strokes his cheek, and he agrees.

It’s a straight shot. It’s an easy kill.

If he doesn’t help her, some other guy will.

It’s a sleek piece with only one slug.

Spin the chambers and give it a tug.