[from Terrance Hayes's Wind in a Box, Penguin, 2006]
Wind in a Box
Even the dirt dreams of it now.
It is two roads along two rivers,
The sky above a mother's face
The day her husband leaves
For war. No blood and stars
But the blood and stars.
Let's find it and break its fucking neck,
Let's break its fucking jaw.
Let's break its fucking ganged in vessels
And if it pushes back and a tiny blue rises
On its cheek, let's break that too
Until stars dance in the corners
Of its eyes like white seeds
And let's break those too
Until all the words we know are split in two.
No power but the power of need.
Let's get up ready to feel.
God bless the rage in us.
It's how we know each other.
We who keep vigil by the windows,
We who pour ashes from the windows
Into the wind, skin passing over skin,
Let's walk up the hill and along the rows
That do not ask questions.
Near the white and yellow flowers,
Strangers are moored in sighs.
Soon it will rise without kissing
It says we will not be renewed,
We will not be filled
Like the birdhouse.
It says we will arrive unwashed.
Aren't you tired? Let's lie down.
Let's cry out and rest.
Wind in a Box (Poets, Penguin)