Four Lack Songs

Alack Alas

Hammer to a copper bowl,
someone left the light on.
Touch against the thin wrist
skin, and back again, and back 
again. Can't find the vein.


Alack A Day

Stiffing a filigree leaf, ribs 
align in alternity. Drop 
me a line, I am leaving—
the har-dee-har men come soon.
And once they are here, they are.
 

A Daisy

Soon the alterations are finished;
she mends where fray yields to fringe.
Wet thread creaks the slit like
chalk on a board. There's 
no sense closing your ears.


Lackadaisical

You're just like the other, someone
said. I hear you, but where 
are my shoes? I've looked every
where. I've looked high and low 
and my feet are cold, and bare.