BURRS: A DISAMBIGUATION

for RB

Stuck in its fur,

the cat was covered

in burrs. Chandler

Burr, who said queer

was like being born

left handed. Burrs

in the throat; R's

flipped and turned

in the Nurth–

East or the Norse

Borr, who fathered

Odin, war monger

and chief of Asgard.

Raymond Burr,

Ironside's wheelchair,

Perry Mason, lawyer.

Gore Vidal's Burr

from his Empire

Narratives. Burr,

the village in Nebraska.

Richard Burr, the senator

from North Carolina,

staunch Republicurn

and son of a minister.

Or maybe burrs,

tungsten carbide cutters

used in dentistry that turn

so fast a touching finger's

skin will flex away unhurt.

And lastly Burr,

a relatively young crater

on Callisto, moon of Jupiter.

Disambiguated in its fur

like meteors

bound for fertilizing earth.

LATER LIFE

for MH

Her fingers are fussing the big, green

button that holds her cardigan.

Taking pills to remember her stockings.

Getting dressed each morning

to sit in her chair. Her velvet mauve

slippers. A white crocheted shawl.

The television is silent as a wall.

Two raised stripes show she has worn

two bras, but no other underwear.

The clock fingers race and whirr,

eager to have the day done. The world

spins an axis about that chair.

The old–style bulbs fizz and stir.
It seems one is about to burst,
threatening with lengthening flickers.

Dark. Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Light. Dark.

ALL HALLOWS YEAR

I saw her peering from a black cab circling Seven Dials;
a paper-thin, powdery leer, a skeleton's smile

in a blue velvet cowl. I swear she held a scythe
and carried a burning torch that blazed

and blackened windows where it passed. Her ladies
in waiting were succubi, a swarm of flies

who stalked behind the carriage, stone-locusts
wearing the brick of the buildings to dust,

swept smoke blown, people going bone, gone ghost
after the funeral march. The taxi turned hearse.

Danse Macabre. Dogs and children thinned, scourged,
emaciated in the flow. Meanwhile the corpse, gorged,

fattens and bloats until it reaches the Thames edge
where it emerges and floats. The river runs black sludge.

Storm drains. Red and blue ministers drown in the bilge
pumped water. The streets are rinsed with blood.