Field notes on the Midnights
Of course, at first, it was the oceans they came from
Quiet colossuses with whale bone guts
they had plastic bags for scales
What songs were the ones for summoning?
What were the spells to awaken them?
Where did they grow in their slumbering?
and how could we lure them to sleep?
Spoiler alert: We couldn't.
They lived with us now
in every background
soft and lolling mountains
casting deep shadows across every window in our cities
In Korea, the Midnight is a crane
who glides in slow laps around the borders
we know it lays nuclear eggs but we don't know when
it will land to lay them
so we do our best to live
and teach classes and smile
and should the egg hatch tomorrow
then I will be glad to have learned enough of the language
to say I am sorry
In America the Midnights are hooded horses
or snapping turtles the size of armored wagons
They are slug kings pressings themselves out of oil lines
They are coyotes pissing in desert water
It’s not like you wake up choking
but picture a weighted fishing lure hooked on the throat of your heart
Picture a man backhanding a porcupine
picture a swan dive frozen before splashing into cacti patches
Picture the sand in your car after a drive to the beach
how you might find some grains in your living room later
and think it came from the hem of your pants
Picture living in the bottom of an hour glass
Each grain, another midnight
each grain, its own little horror
Of course, at first, it was the oceans they came from
Quiet colossuses with whale bone guts
they had plastic bags for scales
What songs were the ones for summoning?
What were the spells to awaken them?
Where did they grow in their slumbering?
and how could we lure them to sleep?
Spoiler alert: We couldn't.
They lived with us now
in every background
soft and lolling mountains
casting deep shadows across every window in our cities
In Korea, the Midnight is a crane
who glides in slow laps around the borders
we know it lays nuclear eggs but we don't know when
it will land to lay them
so we do our best to live
and teach classes and smile
and should the egg hatch tomorrow
then I will be glad to have learned enough of the language
to say I am sorry
In America the Midnights are hooded horses
or snapping turtles the size of armored wagons
They are slug kings pressings themselves out of oil lines
They are coyotes pissing in desert water
It’s not like you wake up choking
but picture a weighted fishing lure hooked on the throat of your heart
Picture a man backhanding a porcupine
picture a swan dive frozen before splashing into cacti patches
Picture the sand in your car after a drive to the beach
how you might find some grains in your living room later
and think it came from the hem of your pants
Picture living in the bottom of an hour glass
Each grain, another midnight
each grain, its own little horror
I think this is damn close. I don't see areas where you should expand or compress. I'd pitch cutting: "Spoiler alert: We couldn't." Think the next line does the trick.
ReplyDeleteI'm also on and off the fence about the word "nuclear." Would be cool if you could do this poem without it, but it may be super necessary.
But you really stick the landing, and I don't see any gaps.