Shi

shi

mournful, swaying these old pines
near the strip mine, creak and
crack

pines full of quiet full of the nature of this holy
ground far from the sperm of the first emperor
the stars pulled from an empresses' breasts

this piece of unkempt shrines
breaking signs untended by my town, the one
built by the river

the month without gods was one
month before I chose to join my
brother
breaking into the static,
crawled
trawling
the streets for coke

I was each moment touching
the baby fat of his hands

I tripped, scraped my knees off, nearly black like
track marks

I went to touch him and he had slipped into my drink
dilating my pupils to two black holes, the size of
her breasts, these stars,

this forest led me here.