I will leave my life by the heart of the sea
for the shoulders of thieves,
for an extinguishing star,
for my soul’s loose skin.
I will find it again in the soul of wine
for America’s sleep,
for a soldier’s happiness,
for a fugitive justice.
We were scattered here
like magnolia petals,
from a garden of movement
to a prison of stars.
Our rivers have been poisoned
with usury’s kiss.
A discarded rose
lays in the road
like a dead dove,
like an apple in a broken wrist.
We may abandon this place
where chains hang loose
from the mouths of gutted cars,
abandon it to a dream of brown and blue,
but rust will fall
from a butterfly’s wings
and another wasteland
will open in our lives,
for our rivers have been poisoned
with usury’s kiss.
We were scattered here
like abandoned children
on empty trains.
A discarded greeting
lays in the road
like a dead animal,
like a rusted face
from another wasteland,
for our rivers have been poisoned
with usury’s kiss.
And I will leave my life by the heart of the sea
for a wolfhound’s feast
for a soul’s madness
for a lonely woman
on abandoned train tracks
like a memory that haunts the echo of today.
Amherst, October 26th, 2009
I will open the orange trees of my blood
I will open the orange trees of my blood
to the sea, to the rocks, and forget.
I will find a cave by the sea to remember,
to awaken my longing again
in the rocks and in the spume.
Here, at the confluence of two rivers,
I will view my desolation,
my desolation that reaches to the stars,
and asks me to remain.
