Dances on the street, the notes pulse
At your throat, sucking out screams.
They killed the raven that ate a god's eye,
Pressed his feathers to the wall where we
Think they're concrete, holding us up.
From the slough of the city he watches,
His are the bones we drive upon.
Fairies gulp down coffee-colored exhaust
Until it stains their whole bodies yellow:
Screaming feasts, smoking feasts.
Let the notes slide down my throat,
Coagulate into melodies, downbeat
Breath, pulse, swallow.
Cross the crumbled, clay-shard creek
Beneath the hollow brick, stair
Boned building.
It impels its own removal, cleanse
the past from its bed, awake
the thirsty future.
Exhaust grimed wings beat at the glass,
Asphalt shudders under truck bones,
Away from the hollow eye.
Here, I stumble to the sidewalk, feet
And hands chiming the spinning
Wheels, ringing the road.
Branches brush my head; benediction?
Oak and shadow devour a yard.
The green house. He waits.
They buzz up to my hair, pinch my ears:
We have blood, breath. Yours. You.
Call him out. Call him out!
Blood, soot, clay; beating fetish wings.
Afternoon sees me bleeding shouts,
Staining the air, staining the fair.
Call him out.
Call him out.
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