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Suddenly the Graves
By Gillian Conoley
I would never say anything against
the dead.
I would drop my clothes to them
and say yes, see how the sun
won't leave me alone
what we cover. my neighborhood
is startling luminous.
Yesterday yellow tanks
steamshovelled
for the underworld. Otters dove
to sleek back their hair.
On the bench a man old as dirt
sat over his death
while teenagers, their hair
lit with color, chased the greased
and iridescent ducks.
There is no peace in my mind
anywhere.
If I nap in this light my
grandparents rise
and mix their dominoes, their
hands
rinsed of sun but bone-pure.
What if I left with them,
and shed my body? Would I
hear a single, melodious siren
singing the power,
the glory? Or would I
live on, as the earth continues.
With that singing in me.
Source: Some Gangster Pain (1987) |