Jokanaan

Jokanaan

Winter called out,
I am a door, I am a door

through the blizzards, trucks
driving slush; hacking up phlegm

in my bedroom like a clam,
the moon hiding her silver face,

and the stars
seemed afraid.

Downstairs, my father shouted
at the gas company. Just as a wolf makes music

on my spirit, anger
a red cord of durian

cut with an ivory knife. Our tabby cat grooms himself
at my feet, I hold

a treat for him in my palm, a pearl