METALLIC WING

“What is it that you mean, mother,
Eye lit in a moist tunnel of dark –
What is it that you scheme, mother,
Head flickering a reproachful remark.”

“I mean nothing at all, daughter,
Wounded arrow, outstretched hand, severed ear,
I scheme nothing at all, daughter,
Disjoint body rocking the dwellings of fear.”

“What is it that you let fly, mother,
Handle wrapped in a queer piece of skin –
What is it that you hold high, mother,
Metallic wing in its socket, beating unseen.”

“I let fly nothing at all, daughter,
Desperate kite, open orifice, maladied crown,
I hold high nothing at all, daughter,
Baby’s thigh, weary flag, cheek cast down.”

“What is it that you chase off, mother,
Childhood sunk in a barrel of mire –
What is it that you erase, mother,
From the ceiling swings a red wire.”

“I chase off nothing at all, daughter,
Trembling frame, failing knee, finger numb,
I erase nothing at all, daughter,
Rinsed knife, clean floor, bandaged arm.”

METALLIC WING