Catastrophe Art
MeLaina Elise Evans

Bleach splatters
on your gathered clothes:
tiny lilies. I am Gardener, so tender.

The fire, later, from the hands
of the devoted, each match
an unborn child -- awing potential.

In the kitchen conducting
the tinging glass on tile, direct
with dramatic vibrato.

Slashing the tires, I'm only
their faithful messenger. They said
to tell you shhhhh, shhhhh.

1996 © 2011