Water/Earth/Air/Fire

I. Water

Suffocate, squash the canary—

your name, carried on air,

poisoned lakes, drowned bodies,

and spelled out esoteric runes

on the shore. Attributed

to a thousand other voices,

untethered cruelties poised

to find pearls in their lungs. 

Plastic strings of nerves tangle

around bone, anchoring

dirt and silt to the face. 

II. Earth

Controlled explosion, box of chocolates—

street signs bend back in battle,

sledgehammer, sweet pastel de nata. 

Roaming hoards of cattle, 

flattened 2-D vineyards laze

in esoteric mazes, sun’s rays 

and gasps of coastal air. Beyond 

that, beyond apparitions 

and scholarly pursuits and decisions,

arrested developments, nubile

roots, our age evident. 

III. Air

When did the wind say anything 

I needed to know? In moments

of weakness, turn your ear 

to uncaring air, hissing

from deflated lungs. All words say the same thing:

I want to talk to you. 

I want my voice to reach 

where it might be heard.

Psychobabble, baby-talk,

voicemail, kitty-purred. 

IV. Fire

Here's where my ice cream melted. Here,

where I didn't smoke when I had a cigarette

and kissed without a mouth. 

Four-leaf clover of coins between your teeth:

lucky charm, scripture, lottery ticket. 

Asteroid belt surges, spills molten-sticky gold 

to press into pennies, new and blueing

and old.