bear with me it wasn’t long ago I was brainless
lazily pulling fireflies into my teeth chewing them
into pure light so much of me then was nothing
I could have fit into a sugar cube my body burned
like a barnful of feathers nothing was on fire
but fire was on everything the wild mustard
the rotting porch chair a box of birth records eventually
even scorched earth goes green though beneath it
the dead might still luxuriate in their rage my ancestor
was a dervish saint said to control a thick river of dark milk
under his town his people believed
he could have spared them a drought they ripped him to pieces
like eagles tearing apart a snake immediately they were filled
with remorse instead of burying him they buried a bag
of goat bones and azalea my hair still carries that scent
my eyes black milk and a snake’s flicking tongue
does this confuse you there are so many ways to be deceived
a butcher’s thumb pressed into the scale a strange blue dress
in a bathtub the slowly lengthening night I apologize
I never aimed at eloquence I told my mother I wouldn’t live
through the year then waited for a disaster sitting cheerfully
on cinder blocks pulled from a drained pond tossing
peanuts to squirrels this is not the story she tells hers filled
with happy myths fizzy pistons and plummy ghosts
it’s true I suppose you grow to love the creatures you create
some of them come out with pupils swirling others with teeth