I Have Been Calling Them For a long time I have been calling them without reply. I smell them in the DNA hills of my boreal bed I see them waiting on a black forest coat of male arms I hear them arguing, tongues flying in Native winds I rub their dark feathers dipped in a dry As I write in the rocky darkness to talk with them. For a long time I have been calling them without response. And after I saw the twirling Precision helicopter crash After I ran downhill into the smell of crushed metal and dreams After I touched a cold firefighter’s blue-winged lips with the erratic cry of my breath, then I called them again while walking alone in logged woods and for once the giant ravens croaked and lifted me as we listened to our breath alight in tall evergreens. Vivian Demuth |