No One

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


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

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