Horae mortis

Sliced moonlight, cut like cheesecake
the half-circle of white glare: a moon of cats
the night majestic in silence
when above the terror of mouse-waters
death came with a banana.
Death, death is a little lavender boy
with gold dimples
twinkling, dustlike indentations
he smiles prettily at me.
His the wet, embalming hour
amber poured round my mouth
a snarf of orange and watery breath
like an invalid sodden with shoelaces
at last I come to the knot of things.
I see that life is piggybacks and stretched glass
if the king of the universe is my friend
magpies
midnight
miracles
will wait for my drip of jewels.