No one is at Chopin’s grave
Except Chopin’s bones
The clouds cover and uncover the moon
the air stale in the theaters
The clouds let the moon show their power
all our arenas dusty
the moon cyclops eye pours, spotlight.
Any body at Chopin’s grave
if it lives lives in Paris
No one is alive who staked these draculas
No one who put a sword through a tsarist
No one who threw their chest over an atom bomb
took it in the heart
How would they explain
which corners to anchor our webs
Where to jump from
where to secure
Every book at home
I could burn it
And poke them through the ashes
and ask
anyone to weigh in
A world now where no one can get away
I walked north to the river
As I stood over it
I don’t want anyone to think I would join it
I couldn’t tell which way it flowed
west to east
east to west
the spring wind blew west to east
I took a fistful of my Pucci dress
And kept it about me.
And I tried to see something in the water
and how it might move
but water was just water
Fourteen days ago
I took the instructions
My body listens
Acts
Those who wailed and wailed, wake up
Those who knew being expendable, wake up
Those who opened their doors, wake up
Those who refused direction, wake up
Those who hid and pulled inside, wake up
The Americans wake up and load their guns
Every year the guns must be loaded
The furs we all grew, thick and heavy, around ourselves,
we come out frail and heavy
And armed
Landing 