Sylva Keefer
Poetry
after mai der vang
it begins as an anagram.
an analogy, an impasse,
straight split, splintering, smoking
a thin tendril of tar-hued
intoxicant. it begins as
intermediary. it
begins when they turn
your skin inside out and
sharpen your canines
with cardboard. when
they dance question
marks down your uncut
throat. when they answer
for your anything
with an apology, an anyway,
an awareness, a progress
and a promise of prosperity.
when they grind your molars
into children. eyes into vases
the color of cobalt. when they
put sea dragons
into your hands. say look
at all these lovely flowers.
say look at all these clouds
we’re making. say nothing to
fear to fear to fear but fear
itself. say the weight of your
life is no greater than the
weight of your life. unequal and
nightward. you say nothing
and they’ll say fear and
nothing, they’ll copyright
your veins. they’ll stuff
your lungs. they’ll parade
your bite marks
as proof of life.