Love Song from Pluto

Love Song from Pluto


Girl of bullet, sweat and neon

you turn upon that bed again,
your body a garden of myths
where children play
with brick, sand and masks

you call out to them,
like every night,
before your dream turns to snow

the poet from Pluto
is on the prowl again
and gifts you
a skull of mist and guitar

he says he is a traveler of lands
where cave-paintings abound

the children love the sound
of his brown guitar
and leave their play
to make him a crown of glass

but he offers no history,
only the mist of war

then your body talks to the owl
that perched on your table
a decade back

your body speaks
of magnificent poems
written in brick and embrace,
but the owl warns of new nightmares.

you rise up,
and change your head for the skull
and set out to find the poet

he is cycling
in the outskirts
of your garden of myth and sweat

but he knows you are coming
again
to hear his bastard prophecies

he knows you smell a lot like
the guitar shop
of his childhood, brown and strange,

girl of bullet, sweat and neon.