Laura Moriarty

from THE CASE

VARIETIES OF SKY

A helicopter flies in low and dark, lights on though it's day. Almost
too heavy to stay in the air. Same thing next day.

Hearty souls in boats before the storm or are these fools? Is that a
loon diving into the water or is that me?

The sky is green in between clouds.

A gesture is literally xeroxed into dissolution — of me with sand.

Of true with false love. Clear vault. Cold Heaven. Rain is expected.
Is wanted.
 
 

PROCEDURES

Filled with doubt now emptied out. A foil covered thing like a candy
box left in the desert. The lake is self-contained. Many legs attached
to a face indicate swimming. Not one or the other but salmon trout. A
huge dreamlike species. A chart of prismatics it gives off when caught.
Recipes. Advice from people who've never tasted that fish. Blueprint
of the hatchery. These dots become giants. People will believe
anything.

A dead poet is in my mind. He in turn thinks of his brother. Being
practical, he reveals procedures, as for example the one for writing
with acid. Those were the days, when we were alive. The case for
carrying this is heavy though empty, except for the paper umbrella
with which we indulge ourselves at the beach. The scenes on it
automatically repeat.
 
 

BREATH

                                    with a line by James Ellroy

Now there's no tearing
My heart goes easily
In and out of my chest

As if I could remember
Holding it in my hands.
As if I could forget.

And then I do forget and only
Think of what I should wear
Or where I am. Where am I?

Town and light. Time. A quick
Comparison of train stops
With destinations. Tearing myself

Away from the story.
Some bloodletting
Some sense of narrative

Follows me here. "The key
To the wonder
Is death."
 

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