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

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