Lily reads the augurs

a  flock of roadrunners scuttles rudderless
a regatta on  rocks riding merciless sun .
these windless days i wait breathless, inhale.
brew  toxic mammaries, hang the laundry


The alphabet of Ben shira gave me pause-
i was supposed to be
someone's wife? just what did that mean
in the year of my birth? give  or take

a century from prophet's, i took a look
had to book. desert, dungeon-same to me.
 my hair's from sumeria and my feet
from mesopotamia, my howl is my own.



0, i knew him, i remember the shape of shale
 before formative  fingers . he forgets, fatherly,
falls into fable , paints me lizard, serpent, bat.
 babies die all the time,i really couldn't eat another

 bite but curse my name ,  stir up a new scirroco.
a hawk spies the bobbing boats, harvests dinner
from the unaware. wife, i never was. inconstant
as the voice of an owl, standing on a lion.