Babel / Aubade
After the aftermath of that hard-spent spring how will I break
thee is the question. Pin down in the dark and halt. All the horses
strained to the flickering ropes in the trees and restrained. Or lay
crack the gardens oh freak violet were we. The horses rode after me
after. The bats were a miracle with legs I saw to say how could you.
And even though the new world got brave out of doors I shut &
all the aftermath is all I want. (Twice.) All night you take a bride
chest in thy swanny clutch I want in: wanting out is why we change
the lock on each other but I want to door. Do I wed the key word
‘want’ for nothing but to find thee on the other side? I wake wanting
more than I did before. And I do. Thy heroic thy horses be damned.
Thy hurt. A kingdom for my gully· my crossroad for a truly hard
up king· my good hilt stacked to do my saying for me. Tower
kicked is the mathy after so you lay finger to my violent fruits
rolling in a hot hay. Hey after the hallelujah I cut clean in half and
you check thy pulse with a reason. The legend screws us like we came
together in a loving tongue so I unscrewed it torched it. Don’t wait
for what comes next. Tell it fast so my borders lit. All the horses
rang out in arson. The stable was a carousel it played thy name
run for its life out the burning door, out the last unbearable
and troubled light.
Lo Kwa Mei-en is the author of Yearling, forthcoming from Alice James Books.
If you’re having poem problems I feel bad for you, son. I got 99 poems but— actually, I’ve got way more than 99 poems. They’re all here, in The Poetry Section’s archives. As you were. You may contact the editor at firstname.lastname@example.org.