The Gift of a Cradle, and: Studying War
Rent from DeepDyve- The Gift of a Cradle, and: Studying War
The Gift of a Cradle
Lovely
beneath the lovely curveof the horizon rests a baby
the curve of lovelynests in a mother's breast
the sweet stream slipsin a sinuous meander
the curved air playsa celebratory cello
a wet mouthis shaping love sounds
Peach
peach was the color when I opened my eyespeach through the tree trunks
pulse of the whole of the budof the fruit of the globe
peace stubborn as soil and as futile as lovestood there whole while the train blew to shrapnel
in the Prado the dwarves the lamp-jawed Infantesthe featherhead Counts were convulsing [End Page 159]
Goya disturbed from Truth's grave criedthis is worse this is worst all this and more
On The Anniversary of The Invasion
on my side knees bent hand restinglightly on my rib cage
lightly your knees touch my kneesyour breath washes over my face
my breath washes over your faceour breath sifts out the window
and rides the thermalsover earth's face scarred and shining
brushing distant facesturned slightly to the touch of wind
Gift of A Story
two old women dug a pondto make a home for piggybacking frogs
a cow came to drink therewhat profits one belongs to all
in bounded the neighbor's houndthen shook the good news all over
children arrived with spoons and pailto dig up worms and cast their lines
by moonlight lovers stole therebobbed for apples on the waves [End Page 160]
Tender
with one hand he grabs the baby's feetand hoists the legs so with the otherhe can wash the baby bottom
his hands and the baby's limbshave refined the configurations
by which he knows the babyby which the baby knows him
as in another time his motherheld his feet and upsadaisy
we is a curve being born
Neither Mother Nor Lover
today the war dead failed to make the headlinesto keep myself human I construct a shrine of words
a layer of tissue a layer of salta little teepee with names hometowns and ages
images grafted from broadcast burialsI caption fold and tuck inside
a moment in stillness for absencefor the grief that scours the heart
a spill of thread a spill of sanda small stone for what might have been [End Page 161]
Cradle
they're gangly grown but this nightthe last poem folded the farewells said
rather than wake themwe bend and heft one more timemore weight than we can carry
as we step out into the night and standin knee-high grassesthey stir and settle on our shoulders
the moon slides past the Balm of Gilead's lamentin the bristling silence of the galaxy
Studying War
We intended to spare you thisIn our outrage, in our flagrancy was the intent to spare youWhen we marched, learned to smile for the spy cameras, honeymooned before the Pentagonstood night vigil while the draft board delivered its fluorescent verdictpassed on miracle tales of the physical, failedthrough hunger artistry or heartbeats triplingor hand belonging to a naked body sidling to the doctor's thighit was to save our skins and the DNA embeddedit was a love affair with democracy, we ain't gonna war no morebut the poor kept falling to the tune the rich were singing [End Page 162] but we turned aside to give birth in the gardenand to gaze upon our children's faces
I saw a sadness spread its wings and settle on your shouldersYou said, One day the lightning flashed, my father scooped us up, threw himself on top of us,silenced my terror with his palmNow my brother has a war to call his ownAll the boys pray they are immortalthey rinse their souls under the desert starsTo enter manhood in a desert firestorman antelopeto fumble blinded toward a rag of fleshYou already know the aftermaththe...
