“Who are the boys we’ll root for
when they’re all dead or gone away…
Who are the strangers now
running wild in our country…?”
– Mervyn Taylor, “Voices Carry”
Should anything happen to the farm child, who would
arm our vertigo ? let electro magnets flash^fill the hills : hurt
Unimaginable hurt has found us home.
Glove concealed intent could reach for neck wrinkles . claiming
later not enough upserve at the wellhead; shook awake
the breast peels off . white gown fond strokes.
High low back siding out too slow how much rod ride
can faith take ? humbled under that onus our best schooling
years might fear reset, wafer tongues open . sucking the quote
unquote.
Trail outlets strewn with hacked lamb
parts that slip under flounder . in pocket tight wrap
chips of air; shots fired over head breath intake
gambles so.
*Newstanders blood absorbent, the village heaving
with the trust of harbours . staring out to sea; promising I sorry!
to bottle ‘n’ piss better next rage in the hold | all quiet again,
All mask, then.
– W.W.
[In mem: Agitu Ideo Gudeta .. Trentino, Italy .. 01/2021]
QAT
Qat too has settled for the final version,
For the finished product: there is nothing else
To do with les déséquilibrés du monde
But to tie them down or lock them up and let
Them drift through a chemical haze, lest they keep screaming
Of l’enfer du monde, that blague still a (vague) plague
To business-as-usual with its killing
And maddening (quel dommage) swift heartless rapes.
Yet Qat had stayed balanced, kindly, strong enough
To leave behind her aliénée la plus in-
time to pursue in time those other fantômes
Of l’Amélioration and l’Avancement that haunted
Her father’s agreeing to let her escape
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
