Players long to capture alchemy:
a slippery tableau
inscribed by separate sets of hands;
master resides off stage
and directs the performance:
Now run in mad circles
like circus apes
or clowns: pile up, fall down
grab each other by the tail.
long bronze kisses-
“Kiss me, spike my punch..”
“Punch your lights.”
“Wait. Don’t leave me.”
Masterful should begin with a big M,
playful, a little p! Try to get it Right.
A field of tender prairie star-flowers.
In the distance, a firing squad.
“I saw what you did.”
“But no one will ever love you like I do.”
“Please don’t lie to me.”
“OK. Saw it carved on a tree, in hell
where I used to live; an onion tree.”
“Irreplaceable me versus replaceable me…?
is that the question? ”
“No: how many wounds
does it take not to die…?
And where were you last night?
Those are the questions.”
“Next summer: a promise:
those dark-blue-eyed moon-kids, us…”
“I know. I don’t know.
OK, I think I know.”
Slow fade, fade to black.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem