the bone that aches in the rain of lies a turnip instead of cake the fire that feeds on the breath of witnesses, even a stone, then speaks the echo of her no in the outskirts and streets the sword he brought instead of peace the red coal an angel places on the tongue like a treat the sentence of his sentence pennies worth more than gold others, and then some the tree with so many tongues that says, “The truth resides inside the wind and blows for those who hear it.” a kiss on the cheek that doesn’t turn the nerve that takes its stand by keeping its seat the pauper in the park who says, “Of these ends; it is the Right of the People to alter or abolish it.” the bell that heals itself by ringing a smile in the hole the eye that sees when closed waking, waking
Copyright 2020 Chard deNiord. From In My Unknowing (U of Pitt Press, 2020). This poem also appeared in the anthology What Saves Us, Poems of Empathy and Outrage in the Age of Trump.
Oh another with a call to read and ponder again. Thank you.
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