The convicts' children

Today a god said my name in its
prayers. Watch a man bleed. What is
the teeth of the wind on the neck of
a bee? Who gave the red ant the bite
of the sea? There the god lies
humped like a camel licking its
toes. How do you say tired in your
language, god of silence & trauma?

Today a god was on its knees & the
music was playing itself hoarse
before the benches. There were
convicts escaping into the shuttling
fireworks. The bullet holes tasted
like licorice cleaned with
toothpaste teeth. They fell like
pinballs into the kimono of night.

Come on sweet angel, whose god do
you serve? They had them kneeling
before the long line of the horizon.

The faraway of the fluttering sails
recorded the falling tumble of each
body. A god called my name today
when the sun was wearing her gown &
how she smiled when the trees bowed.

The moon was staring at the river.

He wanted to see what the back of
the earth looked like. A light shine
fell from the old sky. The boys
carried their fathers home. There
was silence on the sole of their
skin. Their angers had many mouths
but their mothers were rolling like
dough down the hill, from the beach
back into the kitchen stove where
the dinner was still burning & the
house was roasting cold. The story
was retelling itself before the long
fire & the little ones were
listening. Listen to me, listen to
the banjo & the drums,the happy
hands closing the doors one by one.

I called a god's name in the
sleepless night's arms. My body is
the weight of weariness. The blood
will not wash. The boys are
harvested like a carnival & the
girls turn themselves from pupae to
chrysalis & back every evening.

Sweet mercy is seated near the
gamblers, watching the dice roll
through the liquor shots blinking
like sixes rolled too much too soon.

The knife blood freeze on the lapels
of the room & when the shadows leave
there are bones too tongue tied to
pray. Gods of small animal body,
where is your power over this
terrific life?

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