Interrogation IX

By Heather Derr-Smith

I’ve given up on him. You can’t get anything
Out of that heart with honey. I could not
Sleep all night. It felt like there was a spring
Between my legs, bees in my chest. I half-dreamt
Of a row of hapless cars caught in a storm,
A hurricane that blew down the Eucalyptus,
And uprooted even the cacti and the chain link,
One meant to remain, the other way past due.
All chaos broke loose and the small anoles
Were singing Guantanemera down at the old
Square of the Weapons. It was a bad dream.
I was glad to get out of there. It’s like that with him.
He reminds me of someone I know. I walk through
The rain shadow, dust as dry as the truth,
Nothing much to it. Listen: dusk’s hymnary opens
And songs fall out of the mangrove’s cool, dark
Mouth. Give me the camera and the box and what
He’s most afraid of, and I’ll make him sing.

Published July 2009