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