Catherine Wagner

an hendy hap

I saw the tyrant in the bath
his thing waved like anemone
The chesthair draggled
sprang to curl
he stood to dry himself.
Here is a perfect circle hedge of bronze
and when I stand here not afraid
in sweet consent and ritual
upbraid me through the vein that feeds the tumor
and pinch me off, the tumor hot and gorged
dried now to scab.
An eyelid like a wafer
concave and hardening.

And when I woke
and walked between the two trees to my house,
the house they'd lent me,
the door was blown open,
I saw that I was single
and my marriage capillaried clasped to all
to the field and the brown world,
I saw it to the tracks
a thousand stalks of canegrass downed by snow
frazzled the field in pointing yellow
pointing everywhere
some of them stood up
some of them pronged through by the next stalks
not mirth or death
it doesn’t mean anything to point.