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brothers & sisters to the land
we have doors to open, candles to listen into
we have language & rice & blue ceramic owls
from the feet, the prayer
from the stomach, the voice
from the eyes, the language
from the mouth, the grave
(yes this river created my love
& yes i am standing beside myself
with toes in the water)
evergreen talking revenge
oak talking revenge
the ozone talking revenge
sand & soil & the endlessness of skies talking revenge
mountains say nothing of
what you are not ready to hear—
the wisdom of hawk swoops to the chainlink fence
briefly locks eyes
saying, gardens of blood
do not & cannot lean on anything
but the triggers of tomorrow
yesterday, i was scarecrow in the bread aisle
security followed my silent wish
to hug every mother with cans of soup &
to set fire to every one of the cash registers
soldiers measure the distance
between oceans with a general's orders
with 150 years of ammunition crates
in nobody's name
—the mere weight of one of my atoms
is enough to turn warmongers into ducklings
i throw pieces of bread at them & laugh, high & mad
i cram sociology down their throats
& still they do not listen
& cannot reflect, a blank void in the eyes
speaking the lies of dead monuments
© 2023 Daniel Cyran
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