Market at night and other poems

Market at night

the vegetables pull back and the lights netted overhead 
in thin waves stutter on  
the alleys choke: arms and legs all look the same  
in flailing, even Americans on taglit  
 
I like to watch here; 
mouths move and it’s a release to not understand 
stay behind my roommates as they push  
don’t mind being shoved like they do  
 
but when things constrict I lose them  
back into something hard and someone backs into me and I’m stuck to 
a stiffness forced against the triangle space 
between ass and thighs and lower back 
 
twist to see the soldier behind me 
up close his face is veined like a scallop  
somehow holographic—something I could put a finger through  
and not lose the tip 
he flickered as I looked but 
didn’t pull back his gun  
 
the crowd released  
I walked stiff away, unstuck my dress  
sat down in front of the world cup  
felt myself damp on the metal chair  
and reached for a beer  

Night moves

dreams moved over me at night 
fat birds, circling  
 
alone in a desert-scape  
without edges or sun  
lit by a constant beaming from an invisible plug  
 
I see a group of men walking to me 
tarred in olive oil and feathered in sand  
I smell it; see the dull shimmer 
fat and insolence in a sick dredge  
but they fall as they come  
bodies frothing on the land  
disembodied legs of a crushed insect, kicking  
I watch them until everything goes still again  
the light doesn’t flicker  
 
wake up flat backed  
teeth ground into flour  
mouth gummy with it: spit and dust  
into white bread  
I swallow  

Valley of dry bones

He said to me, 
“O mortal, can these bones live again?”  
I replied,  
“O Lord God, only You know

something unthinkable about my own skin 
a wrap; a shell to be broken 
crack this yolk to watch it ooze 
and curdle in the heat  
but instead—fall asleep 
listening to voices in the hallway 

Thus said the Lord God to these bones:  
“I will cause breath to enter you 
and you shall live again

hair gathers in delicate tumbleweeds—
yellow reminder of regeneration; 
a honey sludge for the starving to adore  
I drag a brush over my scalp 
and no longer gather what falls  

I will lay sinews upon you,  
and cover you with flesh,  
and form skin over you

take a nighttime walk  
a metal distaste in back of my throat 
teeth: blood diamonds  
watch trees hung with faces  
twitch oblong in the breeze  

Thus said the Lord God: 
“Come, O breath, from the four winds,  
and breathe into these slain,  
that they may live again

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