coal
What else is there to offer, god, but the body
and everything in it? What’s mine’s
for mining. The wooden cages do not warn one another
of danger. I’m burning means I’m burning
not beware. The horses, though, in the field wear armor. The armor:
blood. What’s that noise? Something announcing itself so
the beast won’t startle. Keep your hand on the body
as you move around it. Mother,
the soldier says, stand back.
