you would spell out an evil magic
as though you could know where all the geometries lie after so many years
the way the raven cuts through the dawn
binding his feathers to the sky staff
the way you know secretly how many years it has been since you loved anyone
wheat in its chamber
but still you spell it right with its colors
the stone roof like the metal sky
aching against your face
no matter what you might say about it you made it well
can we build something that no man knows how to build?
like building a man out of copper and water
you don’t know that it’s evil only that it frightens you
stretching out
your arms like the eaves of your house
making a womb shape
letting the shape tell everything
its sides and color where there is light
like your body of no color at all
made in the dark
burrowing river
worm bursting from the earth with his paper cheeks
