—after John Wilde
Because the moon is a wafer
bleeding beneath my tongue,
and the desert is still sleeping,
it must be. Tomorrow
stands with its toes at the edge
of a volcano, pouring
a red mess of life
from its stomach
into the earth’s pit.
If the day’s not picked apart
first by the bills
of louder birds,
I will tear into it like bread.
This is how the rhythm
of the earth’s core will continue
beating. Yes, it must
be this light in my hair or
the moon’s muted halo
through which the stars swim
like minnows
in a bait shop tub. It must be
the weight of my face
in my hands or
the weight of the body
hanging from the meat hook,
watching with hollow eyes,
waiting for a slip
of the blade to release it.
“Muss es Sein? Es Muss Sein!” originally appeared in Hayden’s Ferry Review and is republished here with kind permission of the author.
Louder Birds (Pleaides Press, 2020) is available on our Bookshop site.
