-JEALOUSY-

Not the simplicity of the trunk, but winter
in Wisconsin mixed with the snow of January
on the lakes, nothing warm enough to touch
in the bitter fields.

That is what the Inferno means.

Love can leave you mute
sleeping on park benches for twenty years.
The liver, lonely in its trap,
is driven to poisons that are never
cures for this life. To rob people
of their breath, their words.

That is what the Inferno means.

The public avoided him in church
staring and pointing and whispering
at the escape artist Harry Houdini
praying feverishly in the wooden pew
his fingers tracing the lips
where his muse once bestowed a kiss.