BIZARRE STATUE

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The Polish Embassy

My hand held the railing
I fingered the film.
I paused by the blue flowers
In the icy vestibule.
I attended the scent of the sewer
Snow fell in the streetlight
A goshawk looked me straight in the eye
Then flew over the Spree

	*	*	*

I knelt by the Embassy fence
He seemed asleep on the sidewalk
But ice formed on his moustache
And his eyes remained open
I lifted the flask from his fingers
I finished it for him
A streetcar’s sound crept closer
And I darted away

	*	*	*

I slip on the steps
To the S-Bahn descending at Friedrich Street
I keep with the crowd
While I’m wiping away the bleeding
I give you the film
Our handshake enveloping secretly
Before you can leave
I attempt to speak discreetly

“If it's true that they're keeping me
Another year behind the Wall
I'm going to need that pistol you promised
So give it to me. Give it to me.
Give it to me. Give it to me.”

The Cane Field

I drop my machete
I kneel in the mud
I listen to the wind
Shake the cane and move on
I tongue my broken tooth
I rub my malformed hand
A swift sails from the mountain
Toward the docks and across the bay
It flees these Antilles
Across the water to Venezuela
Along the coastline to Bahia
Across the water to the Cape Verdes
Up the river along the Casamance

	*	*	*

The dim of the new moon
The scent of the whale oil
The pair of lanterns in my good hand
The shattering glass
The smoke in the rollers
The flying flames on the sails
A spotted piglet behind me
The burning curing house
The falling walls of the distillery
Our fleet footsteps
The crying livestock
The fading field in the distance

	*	*	*

I set the snare
I lay down the manioc
A squeal in the shade of the kapoks
Black spots on the hog
I stroke my white beard
I’ll sleep hungry tonight