I want to be strung up in a strong light & singled out,
winnowed from the water & the fire, stalked
by the she-wolf, each day to walk the wilderness
with its people, its animals, its toil & wind.
I want to unfold like Aztec hieroglyphs,
to multiply in the glass a transparent gold shirt,
exquisite as oranges & leaking muscovado casks.
To listen to the metal rattle of the world
as if there are gods somewhere
behind a vaulting sunrise, hissing salt.
A train of cranes outstretched towards alien frontiers.
I want to know there will be wine on the table.
To know the tenderness that gathers
over shoulders of wives. An open window.
A green river. The language of water.
I want everyone to know that I am still alive.
Published in Wolf Centos (Sarabande, 2014)