Between the House and the Hill

This boy lying face down

in my sleep pushes around jars of jelly,

waking me the night he is found

so I can drag him from the wet ground

and clean his blackened belly,

this boy lying face down

who is somehow bound

to me, this hunted herdsman, refugee

waking me the night he is found.

Am I to dress him in an open gown,

bless the holes in his chest with tea

leaves? This boy lying face down,

permeating even the simplest sound,

with the crack in the door he slowly

cries, waking me the night he is found,

lips parted to my blue-black ground,

whispering red vetch inside me,

this slender boy lying down,

waking me the night he is found.

Source: Empire (University of Arizona Press, 2011)