Wednesday 20 September 2017

coco nara

Coals breathe with glowing ferocity
That comes from somewhere I am not.
The wind blows, pages turning,
The tree limbs are lit from beneath
With false light, painted summer for the last few
Days.  I sit out on the roof every night
Trying not to drink. If the day goes by,
an intake, without rain,
then my knees will bend and hurt
As they spin over desolated streets
Beneath skyscrapers. If the night goes by, an
Out, fan churning the creaking scraping rumbling
Of my sleepless foundations grinding down
Into the earth, then we will
get to the next one. What
fills these days of awe? Where
has it poured out?

The schuykill river splashes up
Onto my shoulders and smells of gasoline.
A child is going out on the water for the first time.
His aunt looks silly in a too large yellow life vest,
but she will not take him back to shore.
The coal trains go over the old bridge above our head
And we look at each other, both wondering why suddenly
We are in the flurry crows and the air carries the linden trees
To us, and it is cloudy out. I do not know.
I do not know.

I roll up my sleeves at work,
Cordone off different parts
And smile a sleepy smile
At everyone who wants a sleepy smile.
Women write their numbers on checks
Though I wear my ring on my left hand.
When the old folks come before
Their lecture, all I can think,
Is how miserable they are, only speaking of death
And complaining about the chairs, with so much money
And life left, it isn’t fair. Even now a mystery is whispered
Inside me, I know jake heard it through his blood even
As it went flat; even sid as he called out for help,
a sound I’d never heard , knew it like a bird call,
knew it like a song. “Never let me be that.”
I roll up my sleeves.

My hair is on end with anger at this.
Where has it poured out?
Where have they gone?
The city is built on living ground,
Snagged amongst plants everywhere growing
Everywhere surging up between the lattice of concrete.
Where do you think the roots go to drink?

I am so very thirsty.

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