Monday, August 14
VOLTA
run me my river
need my stone near the stump
accidental table on which mosses max
on light & what rain comes still.
run me my time
unelectric & unsquared, the green
& pebble endless, the dry must of thirst,
run me my hunt & my gather, the key
in the sky searching for thunder’s hand
the greatest of many mistakes
including the large boat, the lock, the whip, the cotton gin
the pen, the mistake of the first women
who shoulda bashed the first man’s fishy head open.
yes, i’d prefer the wars women woven
maybe then good war would be a thing. some idiot
& hopeful part of me believes that. i think i’d live
a good life if left untouched, uninvented, unboated
somewhere continental where my gods & my devils
have my face. would my terror be more peaceful
in those brown, uninterrupted hands?
like to imagine my own river in that old place
my old blood knew. somewhere near a king
known for her kindness or the peace
of a king near i want dead & can kill.
(Danez Smith)