Thursday 3 January 2013

Tightrope of our Hope

for Angye Gaona

Justice eats her own hands
and puts out her eyes

Doors and windows rust shut
as their white paint flakes off like bloodstains

Taste the copper snake-water
As it runs down the glass
and see the red-feathered daytime bats
As they circle the sealed room

We hold our breaths
inside the caskets full of water,
and Justice chokes on her bitten-off tongue

Already a draught of air
spiked with lemon and iron and the rustle of birds
Creeps through the cracks. It swells beneath us
lifting us off the ground
lifting us up
lifting us out and away