Wednesday, May 11, 2005
For Abbas
stealing stones: howling amber
wept away this bruise I carry
centuries of worth tossed out
instead I come in the night
wavering, a silent child stealing—
stone’s worth of hasn’t been
these were her nights
fingers shredded by howling
amber, unwilling slave
wisdom dead in the machine
lungs full of challenge. heart
in fragments
these were your warriors, these
your April nights, spring
infected with charring limbs.
I walked to the Evin Crossroads
through the blue Krishna gates
I had belts for sale
leather and web, ghostwine
scoured. The martyr sheds light
only on the dun hills
the serrated knife, watchful, still—
a blaze in the fountains of oil and blood.
[for abbas/from naipaul: 5.11.05: paschal]
wept away this bruise I carry
centuries of worth tossed out
instead I come in the night
wavering, a silent child stealing—
stone’s worth of hasn’t been
these were her nights
fingers shredded by howling
amber, unwilling slave
wisdom dead in the machine
lungs full of challenge. heart
in fragments
these were your warriors, these
your April nights, spring
infected with charring limbs.
I walked to the Evin Crossroads
through the blue Krishna gates
I had belts for sale
leather and web, ghostwine
scoured. The martyr sheds light
only on the dun hills
the serrated knife, watchful, still—
a blaze in the fountains of oil and blood.
[for abbas/from naipaul: 5.11.05: paschal]
