the hissing kiss of fallen particles
flowing together from formerly
living bodies, wet with blood again
from heaped neglected generations,
filling my ash-stained hands,
mouth crying from my forehead
for my long lost people,
teeth and spine adjoined
in a crawling thing
that can no longer sing.
The flow of deaths
around strong rooted trunks
and trunk-thick roots,
leaves of scalp and hair
landing on reconstituted skull,
making me climb out and
reclaim my throat of throats,
building up the scream of life
lost to so many.
I see my mixed ancestors
pressing a wall of glass that
presents like a bulldozer's blade,
and I want life from shade
beneath disintegration,
let it divide my cells
into teeming darkness,
darkness which has kept the life
unseen in gemlike rectitude
the pale blind sand flows past
the clinging sash of inheritance
to catacombs of damned
whose singing no door has slammed
an unstuck tongue has wrapped
my heart and taken its errant seed
to deeper wombs of home
whose rowers never row alone.
No comments:
Post a Comment