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patrick sweeney

1. WHY CHUANG TSU BRINGS NO REMISSION OF SIN



Under the platinum sun
the white butterfly
throws soft petalled tantrums
amidst the constellation
of dandelions at my feet.
Chuang Tsu never sat in chemo
cacooned in the mutilated flesh
of a woman with one breast.
The sage did not pump
the carbolic blood of crows
into his burning wings.
A child has set sail
a paper boat on the broken stream
of his mother's lifeline.
The leopard sparrow
sheds the cool chrome
of yesterday's rain.
I am not a butterfly
at the still-point
of a golden sip.
I am a man
who has sinned.








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