THE SINGING

It was not sufficient to put wayward
bodies back into their tombs.

I walked through the flooded ward
but turned suddenly back:
there was only a sliver of land
where the dead had not drowned
and I was not on it.

I welded myself between the days
of January, February. But they sang
as I boiled parasites from the bath.
They sang as I lowered into that water.

I wanted a blue night with blue-white rings,
lifts of smoke-light from the centuried houses.
To be on the balcony with Josh,
with Martin and Rose, watching smoke from chimneys.

I wanted to see others alive
and count myself among them.

But they sang as I boiled parasites
from the bath. They sang
as I lowered into their water.




FLEE

When the transistor said killing wind
I felt myself a small noise

a call sign stubbed out
but still live where light
cut through the floorboards

and don’t you think I dreamed the light a sign

didn’t I want to cross
the water of green beads breaking
where one saw the other last

where the roof was torn
and the dome cried out
that the tearing was wide and far

and this is not just a lesson
of how to paint an X upon a house
how to mark one dead in the attic
two on the floor

didn’t I wish
but didn’t I flee

when the cries fell through
the surface of light
and the light stayed light
as if to say nothing or

what do you expect me to do

I am not human

I gave you each other
so save each other.