1968
Born the year of fire
tear gas and Nam
Sirhan Sirhan
King, smog
My Lai and
windshield glare
Old to young
by the river
trade
waters
Squinting to take
in what is thin
to define
Gawk jaw
at the sun’s
decline
Eyes unfolding
incapable of how
the seas
Host distant fires
that are quenched
in the
throat
Expunging
the odes,
the marches
like chess
pieces
Transfixed
to study form
of the future
Hair growing
and falling away
against the
knowns
Minds at attention
soldiered into place
without wish
How the horizon
kneels, surrenders
its bow strings
Bowing to pray
before dying
bent and spent
We have
figured
worse, but then
would
that we
Struggle til
vanishing
in the dark
How we gather
to gawk
at the
fires
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