this one without its head
A hornets’ nest is easily disturbed. There is a balmin drums below the loam. It froths forth, settles,grows. Say the moon makes symphonies of wavesand I will tell you that Gilead is a word, that Ihave stripped it of its worth. You are the dreamshaped of fish and bits of thread and of the foilmen use for wrapping it. (There was an ointmentonce, they boiled it over open hearths but thatnever happened here.) Say, “woe is he unable to speak.”I will pick an iris and make tea of it. I will leavemoist petals in a saucer to tend the ropes and bellsand I will be gentle with the hornets. Promise theseimages: there is too much salt in Gilead, it spills,dissolves. The Lord has trodden as in a wine pressthe virgin daughter of Judah and she rememberseverything. She speaks in tongues, says there are pillarsunderground where soft hair grows down like a lung.
Kamila Lis '05