JOHN SWEET

 


two poems


ZEPHYR

 

 

the poem shouldn't begin with

an image of sunlight on flowers

but it does

and the boy is dying of cancer

 

the sky is blue and

the ground black with poison and

the factories have all been abandoned

because there is no more money

to be made here

 

there is no more blood to be

licked off the blades of rusted knives

 

and numbers are called and

no one ever answers

and this boy is dying

 

painfully

and with sunlight at every window

and a small breeze blowing through

his bones and then your husband

drops you off at your apartment

after the abortion

 

says he'll stop by later and

when he does

you're in bed with your boyfriend

 

and the dog is starving by slow degrees

and the house is empty and

the boy has cancer

 

he has breathed the wrong air or

he has bathed in the wrong water and

all the lawyers do is smile

 

all the accountants do is

close their doors

 

 

 

what they know is how much

one dead child is worth

or how much it will cost

 

how quickly it can be written off

and forgotten

 

and what you are at any given time

is someone else's enemy and

who you lie to the most are

the people you love

 

where you are

when the house catches fire is

with the wife of someone you know

 

what you need to remember is that

god is either an obvious truth

or a brilliant lie

 

that the boy is either dying

or he's already dead

 

that there is

no other way for the poem to end


ABOVE THE BURNING TREES, LIKE ANGELS

 
  

in the end there is only the truth

and we will all bleed like indians

 

in the end

there is only america

 

hands held up to an endless white sky

and the sound of gunfire

 

the bones of ten million slaughtered buffalo

 

soldiers sent home in bags

 

and i dreamt that i was beautiful and

i dreamt we were in love and

in the morning i woke up alone

 

woke up next to a stranger

and the borders were closed

 

the helicopters sang like dogs on fire

like children murdered in suburban living rooms

and then it was my father

 

it was a woman on the phone who said

it’s your father

and then four days later it was

 

no machines and the silence of distant wars

and the mother of my children in

a different room in another hospital

because she couldn’t stop crying

 

and what i told her were half-truths and

what i told her were lies and it

went on this way for another ten years

 

the soldiers were dead in fields and

the slaves were raped behind locked doors in

sleeping houses and listen

 

there will always be abortion

 

there will always be prison

 

and if there are flags they will

always be burned and

what grows from the ashes will only ever

be more flags

 

what we build at the borders are walls

and the guards are given orders to shoot

and the word that we carve into

the tender flesh of sleeping babies is

democracy

 

the man you find fucking your wife

on a quiet october afternoon is

someone you’ve never seen before

 

smiles at you over his shoulder in the

seconds before the trigger is pulled

 

says it’s your father

and then the phone rings

 

nothing on the other end but

bombs falling out of a perfect blue sky

 



John Sweet, 37, single father of 2. Recent work has appeared in Thirst for Fire, Barfing Frog, and Juked, among others. John is a lifelong believer in transforming chaos into art, and in writing as catharsis. A full length collection, HUMAN CATHEDRALS, is available from www.ravennapress.com.

 

 

Copyright © 2006 by John Sweet

Material may not be reprinted without prior written permission.

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