=An Explanation of the Mayan Pyramids=

Love is a big animal, you forget until you see it
throwing a full-grown man around a concrete enclosure
like a chew-toy. Of course, man is a chew-toy.
It's amazing the things you can miss.
A legendary case of dandruff, for instance.
The sirens at 3 am 
going somewhere else.
Some part of me will always be waiting with held breath
for the slamming door, 
the shattered china.
Some part of me will always be locked away
like silverware for special occasions
that never arrive,
the feast where I consume the heart
of my enemy.
I wear an anklet of tiny skulls.
I shake my feathered bone.
I am an exorcism that didn't go so well.
I'm a long series of calculations that ends in null.
I've a gaping hole in my hull.
Because I didn't go down when I was supposed to go down,
people have had to redefine the notion of shipwreck.
I'm most proud of that.
I have the kinds of scars that only cats can see.
They lick them.
The tiger, you estimate, about as big
as the love-seat we don't sit on.
Silence as we contemplate that pseudo-fact.

In any book of family photos

not one of them is me.
I have been excised from everywhere
I used to be.
The glacial drift of cataracts
across her field of vision,
a disturbance on the surface
of the film
where my mother's arthritic finger hesitates
over some indistinct blur.
Right there, that's me.