The Easter Police she moans blue ice beneath bleeding hands and she tries too hard when phantoms haunt livid lairs with persnickety pride and condescending airs i hear antartica is nice this time of year... the easter police crack heads like eggs hard-boiled, recoiling from the yolk in broad window panes reflecting gray light something submissive may make this right casting stones, raging flames she bursts under many names and twice when they are hyphonated. her fragile eggs have dissipated pink and yellow, green and blue her eyes bleed blackness that rapes her true. -hb 10/27/00 back home