So many songs for that time I have sung
You need to be patient they said
And I wait there in time with the stone on my knees
With the child on my wrists
Like a garden of poison plants.
Lullaby of patience they said
So I sang till my voice become
Frozen lake and my tongue dead fish.
They carved my name on the surface
Engraved my stone child beneath.
Clever clever they,
Waited a season to change
a season to melt my stupid bones on which
I built so many songs for the child
I never met.
My brother in me holding the knife like a fox waiting for the winter.
My brother in me screaming like a body on the bottom of the pond.
So many brothers have washed up on this gravel shore
With their wide-open mouths like questions in the air.
Impotent to caress
Impotent to offer
They just jawn on an empty stomach
Squeezing that last breath.
My brother in me carry the cloud in the head like walking to the place unknown,
Like holding a secret too light to forget
Imprinted whispers that never ends.