Brickbats

Brickbats fly at my fireplace
 Upside down I see them in the fire
 They squeak and roast there
 Wings leap across the floor
 Fold up the wall shadows
 The window curtain ghost
 Throws my heart and dusts my throat
 My mind caught by the corner
 Gradually decides its safe
 Becomes a bat itself
 Flexes its little claws
 Curse its leather wings
 With loud, hollow pops
 Around the room
 Threatening to dash its brains
 Somehow at the last minute
 Retreats and becomes a natural glue
 And holds fast and slow
 In every other motion
 Making the night more interesting
 Becomes a cold, liquid breeze
 That freezes and thaws
 And pours the surroundings full
 As no breath can be taken
 It drowns and relieves
 To see the black turn into yellow
 And the yellow into black.
 Brickbats
 Brickbats
 Brickbats
 Brickbats