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."