AT THE PLAY

.
There is a lady in our quiet town
who likes to board a ledge, twelve stories up,
bring something like high drama to a day of traffic cops,
then be cajoled back down.
.
Who knows but it's an old-brain infant need
like pablum for the screaming infant's mouth
or shark's
for bloody feed.
.
Imagine Mother at her mother's breast
and mouths to limp or frozen dugs
back centuries in time
before a word could turn that reflex
into rhyme.
.
And all those old, old lovers, husbands and wives,
are like a thick, loud plague of locusts.
One can hardly greet the blossom of new love
without remembering the flame
of that engorged first crocus.
.
Who chooses poison for his final meal
may simply crave for certainty--
for God-filled time--
and in that human zeal
be sure and ready
just to close the deal.
.