Defector

Who will be the turncoat

That offers up our name?

Recklessness, Sorrow,

Distrust, maybe Shame?

Which hunter in our party

Will become the cannibal?

Disgust, Dissatisfaction,

Another Lover’s Pull?

Bird in the propeller

Moth in my wool coat

Vomit in the streetcar

A hole when we’re afloat.

What vial contains the poison

That will taint our morning tea?

Cowardice, Resentment,

Lust, Defeat?

Today I had an inkling

It dropped into my milk -

stole the power from your pen,

poisoned the cream with Guilt.

I thought -

The glass eel of Sargasso

grows vile and silver striped;

the nectarine we pick today

stinks when overripe.

The imposter’s name was Envy

and Fear of Losing You

He flashed a fake I.D. from Love;

I didn’t let him through.

New Orleans, 23 May