Michael Robins
Two Poems
What’s the Hive Without a Queen?
A bird drops its wings beneath the streaks
of our window, the road from the cemetery
lost in a slide. I thought the heart gave
itself inside the spoon, bedridden, the thigh
where a lie buzzed, sunk & the foul color
shelved inside the nurse’s station. You could
take the books home & comb each photo,
study the swollen skin, trajectory & chance.
Accordingly, we can change the weather
with an incessant plea aimed at the motorcade.
His wife will seem alarmed but confident.
You & I will mark her lisp a pink irrelevance,
swarmed by our attempts at conversation.
What’s the Heart Without a Chamber?
The satellite transmits the wavering circle,
a casino makes room for those who gather
& cheer the final seconds. You & I are living
near the airport, our missed connection,
a sign. Under ice a submarine fractures, seals
an ocean’s narrow aisle. Letters are written
by the crew, a steady hand, the dominoes:
How are we supposed to fall? I’m outside
with a shovel, guarding the house of cards
against a Lakeshore breeze, the daiquiri
that’s waiting for you to sump the basement,
press your intentions to the fresh concrete,
veins & arteries blocked in a hardened salt.