~~~~~~~~~~

honey I don't *try* and make entrances
I just walk into rooms; this Calabrian liquorice
replaces cigarettes, maybe black coffee too,
his family left a black vase at the necropolis
with two men dancing, epheboi, youths;

Gela, in December, a sea-falcon's chrysalis
in the steep brambles of a spring; a horse's head
lying boned on the ridge, white lace blossoming,
hyacinths, and narcissi
the sun set in its eye bones. Soil releases
early flowers, and strange beasts