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this writing appears in the Mark Fleury 2010 poetry book In Your Heart, the Apostrophe’s Teardrops of God now available for only 1000

enjoy this Mark Fleury writing in the 6" x 9" 2015 ISBN# paperback collection book Seeing Strangers			Enjoy this compilation book in Scars’ Mark Fleury poetry book (of THREE books!) as a 6" x 9" perfect-bound paperback ISBN# book! Click on the cover or any linked text for the book Seeing Strangers

Diamond Window #4

Mark Fleury

Tampering with a storm drain, curved into

And exited by its street,
The flooded rain
Could not predict its own

Wide-angled clumps
Of dark brown, gravel-laced,
Exhaust-saturated ice,
Adhered to the curb
And blocking free flow.

And it’s the same
For being machine-trapped,
Pulled to the ground

By distancing terror
As a facial expression.

No amount, fresh-cut grass,
Or yellow shield keeping
Blades in, could’ve refilled

The mower’s tank with either a spring thaw

Or a stalactite
Centered cavern under
The Devil’s red silhouette,
Flat window shades, keeping
Out sun as fuel.

It’s on my tongue,
The red film across
The light’s ray,

Spinning my greed for blood.

Rage just means I think
I’m real, if altered, slightly,
By the bird on the wire,
Above the shore’s satanic

Lapping. Underground. And keeping
In flow with rhythm held
In drum as sense made
Of being corrupted
By birthday cake candles,
My shadow was also a concave
Backdrop against an original
Heartbreak. That’s where
And when, now gone,

An Easter basket, left
By my angel as me,
Is found in the sound

Of heavy machinery:
A spring, a fountain for
My mother. That’s how young
I am, a beat held in light.
And that’s why I’m handing
This, my heart, in prayer,
To you now. This basket

Of dawn. Sure it’s also a cage.
Bodied yet birded in
Rainfall. And this window of
Always also an opening
Out of the spirited split
Of from me to becoming
You is the Trinity
In the top of One.

Pulse of diamond window.
And three from one digresses
In the same way mustache

And white picket fence
Imply mathematics: serpentine.

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