Mercy Seat
In Memory of Alice Alsup, 1990-2014
Her heart was paired with
a strained will, itself itself,
looking for bits of water.
Her heart rang blooms
from witted country dust.
Born, Texas, from scoria
of course, no more
than flower-trash found
wilting in the void.
Totaled in absolution.
Those deep roots alone
might stand all lonesome,
swimmingly, across
some plank-skied wharf
that has never sought
anything but daydreams,
pressed bulbs, full of sea.
Dry it rams in streamings
through Texas, now brined
and sickened, flank of water.
–It is mimed –You, mine.
Little Bristling Soul 