— for Kaveh Akbar
Darkness on both sides.
& wild grasses. Sun-hurt.
Browning. So as not to drift.
Too far from shore. A man.
Palms the tiny church inside.
The warm casing. Inside a god.
Prays to another god. For more.
Of himself. More devotion.
One more detonation. Of roses.
Less blood next time. Less field.
Without end. Or is it more.
That’s required to make a mirror.
Of each window. All that untilled light.
All that goddamn reflection.
The old maple out back. No longer.
A noose swinging from it. Lifts its arms.
In praise of its leaves. Fallen & otherwise.
Only a god. My grandmother promised.
Can beat the trees. Of its birds. Can lullaby.
The field into paradise. Only fear can.
Halleluiah the anchors from their green.
Deerless. Wolf-filled. Moorings. Or is it.
Love. When I open the front gate. Rusting.
Still. Despite drought. Despite me. I hear.
My children playing with. The blood inside.
The roses. Inside the bullet. An impossible anchor.
A darkness. That gives a people. Its name.