L.S. Klatt
PSALM OF THE AMPUTEES
Pittsburgh, city of
multi-corporations
we homeless sleep in your parks
praise us
our golden years--hands
cut down from the trees
released for a season
amber waves of gloria
in excelsis deo
swept into drifts
the sweet gum leaves
Unreachable as the ocher starfish
anchorites we once held fast
to west and east coast
but one by one we picked our way
face down eating up the miles
traveled on tube feet
(suckers thrown ahead)
attachment
the rest to follow
and whenever a useless arm
had to be severed
Heart would make up for the lost
limb
Now you are curious--what’s
in the garbage bags? human parts?
See for yourself
the arm sometimes grows back
slowly (starry)
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