The Caylee Reason

"I praise Thee, Father

Lord of the heaven and earth

that Thou didst hide these things

from the wise and prudent,

and didst reveal them to the little ones."

-Matthew xi: 25

Man was created

anyway

This lip, that tooth

the swelling

in vestibule, in cognito

eye socket, stapes

No intervention

necessary.

Cone-shaped Time

in her mix-matched

funnel-like diagram:

anomaly, pear shaped

clot with buds

and beats.

Outrageous disclosures

in a vacuum, the statement

found in the shoe.

x-------mitochondria

o-------nucleus

)-------cell wall

Man was created

anyway.

Beside the flat

shadow

where the Moon runs

in her orbit

our planet folds

like batter

into cyclones and flurry.

Shaken and pegged

the sea not enough

nor the sky up to its limit.

Man was created

anyway.

To look, to find.

And no where to hide

when the death angel

comes around, when the guardians

of the hell fire throw souls in,

when stashing the body

of a baby in the swamps,

"do what you like"

said the Imam

to the questioner

who hoped for a little admonition,

"do what you like

and tell the angel of death

to go away and tell the guardians

of hell to go away

and "do what you like"

women in frigidaires and the

several feet that keep

washing up on the shores

of Biscayne Bay and that

girl in a trunk, her dress,

what was left of her

floating in the Gulf of Mexico

and this just in:

"Where she used to bury her pets."

"Silent Night" by Simon and Garfunkel.

The meter reader tries to claim

the reward. He actually wants

the money for the revelation.

For the bag of baby parts,

duct tape on the lips and a heart sticker.

A canonization of personal effects.

Some of us knew the bones were right

where the Lord had left them.

We know where all the run-aways are.

St Therese of Lisieux and the little way

patroness of the tubercular.

No one really knows why.

"The victim was found sitting upright in a patent leather chair, traces of cocaine on the desk, and suffering from what police only describe as a Cuban Necktie. "

The Vince Foster palate syndrome

is all over town.

Man was created

anyway.

To gawk and gasp

over her bones

and articles, the things

in her lungs and stomach:

applesauce and onions.

How could she!

How could he!

Try to bury

the napthas of her soul

like that.

Man was only created

anyway.

Smoke and Flood

Look around there near the place
where I smoke and smoke,
just keep smoking and people
walk right up
and say you have to just quit
this dirty habit and I
just look out and think
about their habitual ignorance
that woman who killed her kids
and nieces and two other people
and hey, there's this really green
grasshopper sitting on the ashtray
which is filled with nicotine
tainted rain.
He has one very long antennae
I mean it is really long
like a hair and just noticing
how the bubbles appear in the puddles
in the grass from heaven
mineral charms casually dropping
by and a dragonfly
catches me by surprise
and then my boss calls me on my cell
are you still here?
Sure. She comes out to join me
such an honor, beautiful woman
cranky blonde not a blonde moment
in her and she says that was just
brilliant that thing I wrote
this morning about anolingus
and anorectal gonococcol esoterically
speaking and think
I'm a writer you know,
I write. All the time
but she wouldn't want to hear that
wouldn't understand
but it was indeed brilliant
full of words
so full of things
that don't touch me at all
clinical data is all it is
just stuff not like
that one that got canned
by the UN, he's a Dakik
his wife says life
has been so miserable
with the Dakiks
end of times and all
in the morning they believe
and by nightfall
they're heathens
but no
my boss wouldn't understand
about the time that it takes
to get from Sodom to Gomorrah
or the rationale
behind the missing bone
in the back
that got us upright
or the lie
of the transfiguration, no
and a few hours later on 80
I start yelling into
the cell to my sister,

It's Lordsburg!
You wouldn't believe it
it's just great, just wonderful
just like the rain that hit us
forty years ago and the cars all
lined up on either side of the flooded
road, stopped, not going anywhere
it was getting dark
Dad opened the door and walked up to the edge
rolled up his pants
we were all eyeballs and knuckles
at the dashboard
thinking,
will he make it, will he?

He got in there up to his ankles
and before you knew it
everyone filed right on through,
right on by
and the night took hold.
Should I say, this is true
about everyone I know?

Ode to the Lyric Amusement Company

Old man Diamos was sure
a cheapskate,
a movie man with his eye
on the Nickolodeon,
we don't know more
than this do we?
His death still
a perfect secret
no one knows for sure
if he went down
with the Fox or Grand,
the Apache or Geronimo
or if he died at all.
He started the place
with some kind of crank
wizards, all the same
short types of men.
The best job in town
wasn't nurse, teacher,
dentist, snake oil.
It was usher
because they got in for free
to shine a flashlight
down the aislebecause Nick Diamos
didn't like a mess
in his darling place,
didn't want love
or chaos in the last row.
The man knew
his business.
Reels, big brooms,
luxury lights,
buttery smells,
tickets, one cartoon
and those ushers.

Matinee.

Midnight, the Exorcist
a long walk home with my chum
and the devil.
The Red Sea parts
and Molly Brown floats in
past Lady Guenivere,
whispers something sweet
to Shirley McClaine
at four forty-five,
Jack just boarding
the five o'clock
to gone, as they call
out my name
come to the snack bar.

Intermission.

I stood in the yard that Jack left
for the last time
and took everything
with him -
the fires and dogs,
tire swings and alter boys.
The Greyhound bus appeared
through the mesquite
up on the mountain
for a few seconds
and I cried.
Not sure why
goodbyes are so important.
He'd send postcards
from all the wonderful places
like the St. Louis Arches.
I missed it all
for the show
because old man Diamos
lured us with his faux
red velvet clad ushers
that just don't let go.


The Deer Hunter,
the last picture show.

Manhattan, she was
just all Manhattan
and so pure
because we didn't
understand Manhattan.
Woody leaned into
her
leaned real hard
as the New York sky line
loomed over the bay,
yet the deer
just stood there,
de Niro, the gun
and MurielHemingway.
She was. She sure was.
Nick Diamos
parted the sea
and curtains
to let Meryl through
to channel the boiling
waters of hell
under the balcony,
into the lobby
and out the doors
where they flowed
back into the Lif.
It was raining that day,
I just didn't get it,
the last clip.
But it was raining
and there was still
a taxi in town
parked where it
always used to park.
It was either over
or just started,
I couldn't tell.

Dear Mr. Diamos,

I've been around the world now
there's been a thousand scenes,
yours were just too short.

Sincerely yours,

Margaret Ruth


The back story:

The Map of Cars, Mercury and Marquis
Jack and Fish

The Dove's Midrash