David Kowalczyk - Breakfast At Gethsemane

Here, in the absence of angels,
we live on common ground,
like the tender fragments
of a dying love.

The woods are full of
astonishing leaves.
Howling maples, elms full
of stoicism and disease.

I have been belched forth
from bastards. Shelter
my heart from grief.

This is lunar country.
The clouds gallop acress the sky.
All the towns have
pale gray names.

In my dream, I'm
at the zoo staring at simians
reading mangled translations
of Rimbaud.

Cages full of mandrils
and crack vials, banana peels
and used condoms.

Shadows bend and wrinkle.
Voices bite at my brain.
The radio static becomes
a prayer.

David Kowalczyk

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/breakfast-at-gethsemane/