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 I believe there's a vast, labyrinthine narrative concluding
among the rolled yellow folds of the nation's fortune cookies.
 I believe the oceans are swelling, and Barcelona will one day be lost
to the sea.
Silver fish, sparked flint in the silver river. In sun, the sunburned
skin sloughs off the sunburned shoulder.
Most folks believe this is the body's slow mend. Most folks believe
in the good yolk of the soul.
I believe whales were exiled from the air, so their mournful, Byzantine
songs resound over the Texarkana of ocean bottom.
Eventually, in autopsy lingo, of natural causes
 will be replaced with of long-term exposure to the dim unwavering
radiation of the morning star
The afternoon they bum your body, I step into the garden and arrange a
crooked line of birdbaths, skipping stones
until a bell tower tolls its eight arguments against daylight, and the
skyline illuminates ragged and unmended, like a poem laid on its side.
The evening they burn your body, I step into the living room believing
I'll be greeted by you or by someone who could play you in a movie.
Its curtains are an aurora of carnal proportion. You don't exist
A flash igniting the paned glass is the silent lightning outrunning its
noise. You're on fire. 

JASWINDER BOLINA is author of Carrier Wave, winner of-the 2006 Colorado Prize for Poetry. His poems have appeared in Ploughshares, Laurel Review, and Cream City Review and are forthcoming from XCP, LUNA, and Colorado Review.
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Title Annotation:two poems
Author:Bolina, Jaswinder
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Nov 1, 2008
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