POEMS
LOVE IN THE TIME OF WAR - I
Did a Byzantine general say Ah
when he saw a volcano shoot flames up
across hills? Is nature the master of war?
Could a fissure become a stone syringe
releasing liquid fire against an enemy? Hell
was now a beauteous glow made of naphtha,
what the Babylonians called the thing
that blazes - oil seeping out of earth.
If a woman heard the secrets of Greek fire
in a soldier’s dream, he couldn’t save her.
Only lilies dared to open their pale throats.
After a turtle-dove spoke on her behalf,
the executioner couldn’t believe how light
his hands were, how heavy the axe was.
LOVE IN THE TIME OF WAR - II
Two memories filled the cockpit.
The pilot fingered the samurai swords
beside him, as the plane banked & dove.
Locked in a fire-spitting tailspin,
headed toward the ship, he was one
with the metal & speed, beyond oaths
taken, nose-diving into the huddle
of sailors below, into their thunder.
The day opened like a geisha’s pearl fan.
The yellow kimono of his first & last woman
Withered into a tangle of cherry blossoms
& breathy silk. A sigh leapt out of his throat.
Before he climbed up into the cockpit
he left a shadow to guard her nights.
