for the Wu-Tang Clan and 1992
Shaolin’s flowers, imperial and ready for slaughter.
Bobby Digital wears the wings of the only saint he knows.
Come blessed angel with your skull-cup of blood.
Enter this chamber with your black sword and a streetcar
full of flagging desire. When the children ask for water,
give them wind without a box to put it in. When they ask
why wind, tell them the banks require deposits
to own anything with and without blood. Cash rules
the bullet as well as the ode to the animal that eats his own heart.
Who has not come to this world with a skylight
in their chest and a forest of Japanese pines growing below?
Who would not bless the herons bowing before us?
How many men have you convinced to sing, naked, in the snow?
Copyright © 2013 Roger Reeves
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.