He's Told All Heals By Prayer But That Is Wrong
He's told all heals by prayer
but that is wrong
The horse--emaciated--tells the sky
Its mane dances swiftly in a leap
All it sees is free but lands
awry
A country croons unzipping
North to South
In steel rhythms clipping over
tracks
Wondering with fire what will
peak out
Cold to hot they scream to
carry black
Tangled limbs misguided from
the bogs
Branches lusting crowded into
clouds
Over skeleton of horse with
broken form
Moonlit twisting thrusts above
the cars
A boy sees all he needs from on his back
Under a blanket of dark is bliss
Hopping trains is calmer and relaxed
What we get away from is relative
Grain elevators sway abandoned in
the air
Rust built towering above the
sticks
Power plant looms across
Jackson’s tracks
Hunkered up with metal upon
bricks
Entering Yazoo City where a stork winds
Down its head in saccharine slumber
He curls warm and low in riveted bowl
While whistles go unnoticed in a blur
There is no wisdom past this
murky hour
As station man pulls his humble
lever
His peace is pummeled by a
scrape
As gravity of stone surrounds his quiver
He wasn’t fifteen but loaded
with pursuit
If only he could squirm to keep
aloft
Not even swagger crushed his wince as
His steel room filled high
with rock
If he could keep his chest
above it all
And hold his breath into the
night
Who would guess a burial by
coal when
Like Vesuvius, dust turns to
fright?
We wonder where boys who wander
off
Have gone and dream to spot
them in the sky
Though they are never far from
us, we
Breathe their dust and burn
them into light
