THEN THEY ATE THEIR HORSES
Every so many seconds a bomb
goes off, a car veers, a needle enters.
Every so many seconds a murmur
somewhere in a tunnel collapsing.
Once the liquid womb, now
a different ocean pressing.
Reverse it, put back the blood
on the inside of skin, call back
the blooming skirts, sweep the throat
clean of everything but its whisper.
Some stories won’t be told no matter
how many words settle the land of us,
no matter how many birds come
to steal the seeds. Swab the pickax
gently around me. I had a bad dream.
How many men fit into this ditch
beside me? What color before were
my robes? Look, my cuffs are golden.
My sleeves, all along, they were red.