Five Poems

by Cynthia Cruz

GUIDEBOOKS FOR THE DEAD

Now the ghost fears

Have gone.

Just the hemmed-in, 

The real

Ones. The pill gown 

Pitch of death and her shoddy

Song of sorry.

Nothing, just me

Pressed against the oil-

Smeared gates

Of the world.

GUIDEBOOKS FOR THE DEAD

Oh bright red lamp, oh flame.

Oh leaked mascara 

Caked at the bottom

Of my brown leather satchel. 

Alone, my only 

Friend: feral, an animal,

And the bright red lamp 

That leads me.

NATURE MORT 

Bathing his godly body

In a white tub of ice.

Damage, and a petrol 

Of dead black flowers.

The sweet pollution 

Of what God he thought

He took in. 

Hustler of the glossy edge,

Bright germ of dreg

Searing its way

Through the blue cathedral

Of his mind.

TIME OF THE WOLF 

The wailing of women 

Was like a procession of voices.

The orphan took two pieces of wood 

And connected them with twine 

To form a makeshift cross.

Then we watched as the men with torches

Moved forward on their horses, 

Through the night’s black ocean, like ships.

GUIDEBOOKS FOR THE DEAD 

I pull the bell on the string at the gate

Then all the demons came. 

Where is the coat

God gave me: 

Long and mink 

And to save me. 

Under the blue awning 

Of the shelter in the rain. 

Beneath the shadow 

Of the cathedral.

I’m riding the same train

As my father now. 

And how I love

The white hiss of prayer and magic.