I cannot figure these poems out. But they are obvs spn.
THE NAME
Taking measurements with red string. Pacing the wet
dirt littered with bottle caps, glass.
Filling a pail with dirt. Packing it.
Hearing the name called out at night.
Writing it down. Hearing it. Hearing spoons
struck across the wet doorknob.
We shoot the scene again and again.
Yellow light. Blue light.
This time I try without talking.
Lying in bed. Watching the door.
God? A rag doll floats above me, stuffed
with shredded paper beneath its dirty skirt.
"God?" I cannot write it down. Who is it
at night, whispering the name of the one
that lit the fire? I pour dirt on the ashes,
hot dirt. Who is it pulling at my blanket?
The rag doll floats above me with its dangling
red string, painted mouth painted open.
-- Mark Levine
Taking measurements with red string. Pacing the wet
dirt littered with bottle caps, glass.
Filling a pail with dirt. Packing it.
Hearing the name called out at night.
Writing it down. Hearing it. Hearing spoons
struck across the wet doorknob.
We shoot the scene again and again.
Yellow light. Blue light.
This time I try without talking.
Lying in bed. Watching the door.
God? A rag doll floats above me, stuffed
with shredded paper beneath its dirty skirt.
"God?" I cannot write it down. Who is it
at night, whispering the name of the one
that lit the fire? I pour dirt on the ashes,
hot dirt. Who is it pulling at my blanket?
The rag doll floats above me with its dangling
red string, painted mouth painted open.
-- Mark Levine