Night Robbers
*
Fireflies are lazy
sparks above the cornfield
All our crops are possessed by some saint's fire
Foxes under the cornstalks,
cornhusks, whisper to us
"No more life for the living
no more life for the dead"
*
Like a bite, some pain is simple, mechanical
Like a sting, some pain evolves,
takes new forms,
turns towards our chest and
holds us close to be fully known
Now it is a stone in our hand
*
Between green rows, there must be
some stray feathers, loosed, sown
Can taste be illusion?
Everything that grows from this ground
tastes of necessity, but the foxes
don't hear their own whispers rising
*
Moon swinging across our paths like
the needle of a compass, orients us:
pendulum, weight, moon
Feels like south and south and south,
Feels like love
There are two points on a map, fixed
yet inexplicably diverging