Category: Living

Subduction
when the earth’s crustal plates collide
one plate drawn down to be overridden by another

                                                                        until I can no longer breathe

and for every mile you dig beneath the surface of the earth
the temperature rises fifteen degrees

                  my skin burns from the tip of the shovel against my sternum

the earth’s core, hotter than the sun,
is surrounded by an outer layer of liquid

                                       that evaporates my tears as quickly as they fall

I wrap the mantle,
the transition zone where rocks cannot melt or disintegrate,
around my shoulders until I crystallize
break, heal, fracture
into a fingerprint embedded in the gravel

When the crows come
something has changed

either the cold
to snap your bones
stone your heart
turn your lips blue

or fear and the want
to shelter from hawks during the day
or owls when the sun roosts

the something could be
carrion at our feet, calling
murder, murder, murder
a row of pin eyes fastened
clearly, deeply as to not forget a face

or, it could just be a lot of birds
with black feathers
found a warm, dry place

I know nothing
about the wind and why it rides
the mountain ridge
whistling, full canter

nor the birdsong
coaxing the morning
until the sun slants, hums, rhymes

not water
how it cools
over, under, around
nor fire
planets
stars
oxygen
grass

and nothing about the blood
that slicks the bodies of children
still, silent, gone
because the color of their skin
the accent of their god

I know
nothing divisible by nothing
has no defined value

when surviving is not enough
truly, the alternative is not this

It is in the quite when it happens
the reasoning of being
examining the probabilities,
the proportions for evidence of purpose

My body is a filter
nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide
travel my airways, lungs
inhaling the sunrise, exhaling the night, the stars
the slivered moon

Is there more?

The surprise of Honeysuckle in February
says yes
the blue of blue skies at ten thousand feet
waves leaving a salt line on my thighs as I chase summer,
listening for laugh lines in every face I meet
says yes

The echo of a mother’s voice from her children’s lips
that’s more

My brother has a gun in his head
and it’s heavy
and it’s weird
the weight so void of comprehension
it devours
all light from his day

The barrel is pointed
everywhere, anywhere
he can’t find his place
he ricochets, he folds, he bends
upside down inside out
until he buckles
breaks

Hair trigger ticking
his motor cortex is damaged
stunted
white matter grey matter
gone stale gone rot
exploding
he takes away

I count every child that falls
like petals torn and tossed
the husbands, the wives
half empty
mothers and fathers,
walking shadows

I hold your hands
and tell you how you matter
and I try not to hate
try not to grab a gun
try not to take away

Khot-jebi, orphaned children of North Korea

They flit, the abandoned ones
from seed, to grain, to rice
little ghost birds
that sift the soil
hunched on stick spindle legs
pinched thin enough
to pick your teeth clean

they unwrap garbage
like birthday presents
nibble forgotten rotting bits
feed the parasites curled in their bellies
that keep them warm at night

dust weighs their hair
pales their paper skin
to a powdered death mask
for a dance that no one sees
with eyes wide open

they steal into China like third hands
dream of being human
knowing one bullet would be enough
but sometimes they shoot twice

here, here little birds
my palms extend in Hieroglyphics,
in dollar signs
miles, miles, miles away
how do you keep your face from breaking

In the hollow of the evening
when shadows relax
fold into themselves
sounds go loose and easy

I lean into the night
breath curling at the corners
and listen for the heartbeat

Traffic slows at 24th & Q
where the Latino boys
flirt with simple white girls
but never take them home

We slide in on platform shoes
skirts waving
perspiration slicking our thighs
cement so hot you taste it

 

The Stockyard breeze muscles in
all rolled up sleeves
on the backs of ten million cattle

some break free, leap fences
charge down shotgun streets
moon eyed and heavy faces

Polish housewives and thick necked
husbands shout hey, hey
and whistle from their doorways

cowboys cut rope, drag them back
the wildest ones shot dead
the others lined up waiting

But, we are sixteen
the earth shimmies as we walk
some break free, some bleed out

I used to race skateboards down Hanover
one hundred and fifty miles an hour
crash and burn, shred my toes
tape them up and do it again

I used to spin out on dirt bikes
drag my chin through gravel
argue with gravity, centrifugal force
anything that hurt

more than his hand down my pants
nasty breath in my ear
club of a prick
breaking my triangle of wonder
my grommet of fortitude

family is family, man
but not this man
that left me speaking in euphemisms
scared to look down
but knowing that was the only way
to land on my feet and run

look ma, no hands
steering with my knees on Gibraltar Road
spitting chew, jamming throttle
puking Mad Dog 2020 after each pin curve
until the sticky taste of semen
washed clean

at his funeral I saw his mother
she said I was the bravest person
she had ever known