day 4 - poem 4 - persecute

[bonairpoet]

Persecute
for Aja, Baz, Lauren

1.
When I am attacked, I feel
a humming inside my chest.
Watch.

It does not come
from the throats of the birds,
there, but from their wings

beating, beating, hard - a machine
revving with all my love
for you. Oh come, come,

to kill me. I haven't
the best of guts for protecting
myself from the wounds

you have to carry, carry.

2.
On my way back from the prison
today, I flew.
Truck rumble on my left, freeway
on my right.
My body, a bass clef bent
deep over the handlebars
of my bicycle, head tucked
in like that - the birds
there, sing and sing and sing.
They carry your name, your name.

3.
Every morning I awake
I stare and stare into the mirror
until I can look myself in the face.

Every morning - this; this is what
it takes to be me - Nobody
chastizes me as much as I do.

I look until I find something
familiar, something to make my heart,
slow - Some mornings, nothing

doing. I can't find what I need
and then ; only prayer, only prayer.

4.
To steady yourself on your knees
hold the abdominals tight
tuck in the buttocks - outstretch

the arms, palms turned up
hold the shoulders back.
Chant a mantra, a psalm

Chant something that will begin
in the belly, migrate down to the knees
and wheeling, like a bird, arrive

eventually in the chest, and startled
awaken the hum there and fly
out your open mouth.

Call it song, call it argument
call it blessing that when attacked
you become more beautiful

you become heraldic
in your bearing, in your mouth
in your throat, the humming

nothing but song
nothing but song