like you might whisper into a trough

like you might whisper into a trough
the black light of love
where all men are under the lintel
waiting for the fall

tell me where you can
his heart beats slow against the grid
scarlet lines
curving tight around the sound

gangsters in their poetry
offer plata o plomo
silver or lead
earthly ghosts

as you grieve the story in his teeth
the shadow and the sleeve
pouring the metal
into the sea

taking the pick
and winch
the timing hand and hammer group
the ingot roller
the flicker of his eye under the sun

unarmed unmonied
I open my mouth

Robin Wyatt Dunn was born in Wyoming in 1979. You can read more of his work at Read other articles by Robin.