elysabeth faslund Poems

'Mary, Under Glass' served home-style
by the last, the first, waiter on the aisle
between the trees of Benediction
green. Under rain, under fog,
...

Now you know, when I were little, I used to hide in the rushes and
Play in that black, thick, bayou mud...
Good for boils and all kinds things.
Them cranes...them white ones, shore was pretty in the
...

Chairs to vacuum
Carpets to dust
Banks to rob...
Uh. No...
...

I falter at the steps before the brass doors.
A crucifix veiled in waxed flames, haloed
By garlanded Marys...
Does it wait beyond the cold, empty aisles?
...

I thought it was very cold
That December night...
While driving to my warm
Home.
...

...Actually polish with a furniture polish...
Not use it as an air freshener.
...Notice the surrounding wildlife...
Pick any room of your house.
...

Been through the Southwest desert,
Been through the Texas hills,
Through a snowy Teluride...
One blow-out on it's downside.
...

Time to get up!
Drink that cup!
That strong, black brew!
Sunlight's new!
...

Ancient steps, aging breath,
Dark, stained glass
Entwined in bronze...
No shine, spark.
...

Who are these white-capped jesters...and jackals
Who have placed me in the belly of a
White death-stinking fish?
...