to 5

    on the 5ives




Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan,
and all the little unknown assassins

who dunk their mouths into holy water
drunk and bobbing at the bottom for—

you know what—baby's heads
not apples. I know a tree askew,

where children dangle by those o
so slender umbilical cords feeding

light into their heads. God if I were
only just blood, an animal governed

by appetite and piss—I'd go back
to my hands around my own neck,

legs like broken time pieces dangling
below that stem. I know a tree

where you can snap a child off
by his head and bite into his skin

and lift the shiny side after, lift it
way up over your head:

Here you go God, you light
junkie, bite into this.




fire psalm revisited