I AM STILL HERE

                            I

O, the dark the dark of it. What we were
And the constant moon shifting. The body's
Shiver and spit – and not one star speaking
Night's language. Ask the dogs how to do it:
Keep barking, they'll say. Let the heart burn.


                            II

They'll say: keep the nighttime leaning.
They'll say: lock the gate. Close the book.
They'll say: possum, woodchuck, vole.
Listen: abstract, concrete, whole.
Really: abstract, concrete. Whole and

                            III

I am still here — with a wing like the be of it.
The wiggle and fart of it. What we are:
Tinkle & twist. O, just tinkle & the tin-
skinned rattle of the hammered heart and all
those howling dogs under the howling moon.

First published in Black Warrior Review