the sound of a bell
held captive
in the steeple
built not on the blood
of Man, but on the tears
of his mother.
Baptized in her pain:
A young girl,
daisies in her hair,
rose on lips; eyes
on her, consecrated.
Small spot on her
white dress, Sacrament.


Yellow, yolk of egg,
easily broken, hidden in the shell
of what could have been. Yellow,
the color of blood lacking
iron—drained of the strength
to preserve itself. Sweat stains,
bad breath, dry skin seeps under
nails, cakes palms with nervous,
rotten—Yellow, belly of eel,
craven bottom-dweller, untouched
by light, but, still, somehow, electric.
Power, pulled by nervous routine,
burst of current, poured within
Yellow, the flame of iron ignited
in air. Sunflower, reaching toward light;
Black Eyed Susan, fists high, bared
to fight—Yellow, belly of woodpecker,
needle beak, heavy on birch, knocks,
hopes—bark pulled back Yellow,
sticky, sweet: Welcome home.