Lucía M. Polis The Poetry of

This poem appears in We Were Hateful People.

existence was our casus belli


by the time you reach the promised land
you're dead  gasping for air
lips anointed with fur

my hands  tarnished with dirt
straighten a dent the ghost left on bed

the sun bakes bread
the wind sweeps carport
ink runs from yen


disfrutar es cuidar lo bello


i will not enrobe in bloom or heat
and inhale (these curious heifers
are of the holstein breed

i give myself permission
to do naught and knit myself

a sweater of thought but wherefore
the record from the mesozoic

who'll witness
the celestial carriage
still imbedded in the earth


the gazing bowl admits "hello the house


the young trout they show off
their rhotic excellence
winter is not yet come

instead  we find
a web of asymptotes and filaments

from which there hang our
sharpened implements or
dispositions' jagged instruments


we are told all is well


next year  we are told  next year
next year in ierusaleme
the cock crows at dawn

the crow cocks its head
dawn fondles the cock

the cock crows at dawn
a solitary iew defiantly eats brot
presses a switch connected to nothing


the frosted window in your mother's house


shows  hypodermic
draining poison from the arm
a man marrying a rollercoaster

a library
a tree