ditto. last year we were sent to the gray block. alarms went off,
but we had our own reasons to have the episode shrugged off,
since we knew when we are not alone. we knew where we stand.
we made it through the halls like misty rain. we understand
the pieces that make up what we will change to be.
only near the death of a chance, only then do the winds freeze up
and twist each other moment as often floating down as gliding up.
ours is not the only life on which futile attempts have been made.
escape is only an option. other ways have their futures ready-made
as though we were phantom masters of our own destiny.
our bodies are gray. our words are gray. gray challenges stream out.
our poems were memorized and whispered secretly and one by one sent out
to carry our reflections to streets and rooms where we wished to go
with the gray as deep as blood clotted over from cuts made years ago.
like attorneys parsing each precedent, so intrinsically intact are we.
|
heavily trafficked stretch
cold gray and showing its rain
covering over places i've lain
with traced scratches at each edge
tinged with hints of red
another morning opening my head
as far as this sidestreet can reach
new eyes see aging stone
half-in half-out a world for its own
my home survives the siege
of words timed to the constant heart
dying to be called to play the part
my sin is not the source of my ache
nor you yet jealous enough to earn my rage
|
pagan hummingbirds
flick open wounds, consuming
femented nectar
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