Joyce Peseroff

Source of the Positrons

A wild wind from pulsars or other monsters;
 
 dark matter; the black hole invited by King
 
 Canute; shotgun blamed at the prosecutor
 
 buried in a Crow mineshaft; the shiver after
 
 kissing, lightning; praise God, good dog,
 
 the child who eats all her broccoli; high
 
 blood, bone breakdown, the sugar, the water
 
 in lungs and about the heart; motherfuckers,
 
 bastards, bitches, cocksuckers, stupid pricks;
 
 starshine, song lines, dance dance revolution;
 
 raw film, negative to the electron’s positive even
 
 though an electron’s charge is negative—

accentuate it, love it, find why it’s everywhere,
 
 find it, find it; the bounce of light, gravity of
 
 mass-less masses; a tune in slo-mo, note bent
 
 from a Stratocaster, stray horn, or sounding
 
 whale; cosmic gizmo, gear grinding gear, squeal
 
 as the A train pulls into Port Authority; doors
 
 open, a harvest of souls falls to the platform
 
 rattling their dice-cups until the lame walk,
 
 the blind see, the wretched rise from their weep,
 
 abandon the couch, stretch, flap up the window
 
 shade, coo to a pigeon on the ledge, drink
 
 whole milk, dress, grab their keys and fly.

Joyce Peseroff