- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Dusk at Noon
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Such a lecher Machu Pichu
high as a kite at night
earthquakes shiver
conquistadors quiver
at Incas with a crooked bite.
Jaguar jackets Panamanian skins
spotted and clotted with gore galore
poachers are precocious
shoppers ferocious
buying coats that no one can afford.
Street corner girl jack-slapping
cursing Cadillacs across the tracks.
Priests and doctors stripped in Gaza
hiding in a bombed-out plaza,
the price of Paradise on their backs.
Bridge players trumping their conches,
special smiles pulled from the cabinet,
covering their tears,
legislating in fear,
praying their grandchildren will forget.
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