Tito Joey

delicately asleep in his coffin delicately tended to
each bead of his rosary delicately rubbed the
bruised skin on his forehead from rough repetitive
banging delicately swinging me on the hammock
delicately showing me a dead body for the first time
(delicately his own) circling delicately the indent
on the same banged spot on the wall in the solarium
with the pattern of a bull's eye     we would
fast-handle Hail Marys together with my mother
Hail Marys clicking against each other like a busy
staple gun
HailMary full of GraceHailMary full of Grace
HailMaryfullofgraceHailMaryfullofgrace
fullofgrace ofgrace fullofgrace ofgrace fullofgrace
Hail Mary full ofgraceofgraceofgrace                    
a brain filled with wind chimes
 

Iron Body

I am no longer attached to my flesh.     Even so,
it is difficult to go  out into the  world  like  this
Half   other       I  am  sometimes   afraid  of  the
hurtling      Our  assigned  junkyards filled with
medical  equipment and assisted-living devices
My body  moves in prone mode  exposing some
truth stored in our limbic systems         Perhaps
I am a heroine in the iron mud