Sunday, November 21, 2021

Michael Wasson





In the Life Just Before This One
 
There you are, waiting
             inside this lost midnight—its blue
 
      of moonlight scraped
                   to your tongue. Remember
how sweet
                          the world is with you here
 
learning to walk again. You boy—
 
       you broken animal
                                 I gather in my arms
like the dawn I pray
 
                          for—to come. It is you
             & only you
                   who no longer needs to be
 
afraid: you are home again.
                          Take my hands & know
 
the ash of centuries left between us. Say it: You
 
       American. Say it like a country
              learning the language of its god-
 
awful ghosts. Say how this—
                            & all that we took—promised
 
to return us to life.
 
 

  

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