each day begins lifting stone from water – 2

it is not exceptional

to come from that place where you see yourself,

in a room without mirrors, at the blessed table,

before the blow arrives, it is not levitation,

palmed card, loaded dice,

 

oh lay me down a tide to quench the heart,

burning core spinning up heavier metals,

the people preaching forgiveness are the children

of the people who sold us down river, we are

what remains after the slag is beaten off,

we have burned and wish to share the flame,

dreaming of bevels, bolsters, learning to taste

air, blood, a different iron than salvation,

 

oh lay me down in the tide, wave

fold and fold, rust and rust, taste the day

cooking up, slow simmer of night rolling

into a full boil, salt and spice, face of steam

face of unsaid, mouth without vision,

ear curling to wingbeat


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