Friday, July 29, 2022

John Godfrey

 


Radiant Dog

Radiant dog on doublecross, and I,

by night, a raven fly. My fear

is that eternity has an alm

that is ordinary to ten thousand

and worn from my strings, my console

of limbs, and I a missing part.

It is the world that's new, not I,

and submarines can shoot the land

from the wheelbarrow of sickly pastorals.

Give me the swamp any day! or the huts

that pave the slave to freedom.

From a small cloud in my ears

the song has leapt the valley

curtained with snow, and for ascendant

harmony the gambler thumbs his cards.

Of all the queens one is a witch

whose curse is that she's held.

The horses roll the stone and trot

after their maturity sweepstakes.

This time the homeliest won't ride

my bet into hasty subtract glue.

The pieces fly and here I lie,

triangle of head and gut and thigh.

Put me on my mount, Tomahawk, and

past the river our cortege will dust

the heavy fur, and peasants' prayers

will touch the smell of holy cadaver.

I will have sun and manly rage,

and Mike Atlas will trim me up

to rip the bier from my brother's

hearse, and avenge me for my loss.

The gallows hurt! and for my scheme

I hang on the bridge's span

where my mother will trust my lips

with tears, the ones I send her now.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Natasha Trethewey

  Elegy For the Native Guard                                         Now that the salt of their blood       Stiffens the saltier oblivion of...